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U'  s<>f 


HISTORICAL  VIEW 


OF 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


BY 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON    GREENE, 
M 

NON-RESIDENT  PROFESSOR  OF  AMERICAN  HISTORY  IN   CORNELL  UNIVERSITY. 


"As  to  those,  however,  who  shall  desire  to  have  a  clear  view  of  past  events, 
and  indeed  of  future  ones  (such  and  similar  events  being,  according  to  the 
natural  course  of  human  affairs,  again  to  occur) ;  for  those  to  esteem  them 
useful  will  be  sufficient  to  answer  every  purpose  I  have  in  view." 

THUCYDIDES,  Book  I.  c.  xxii. 

THIRD  EDITION. 


NEW    YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  KURD  AND  HOUGHTON. 
• :  Cije  afootf  Ore 
1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

ANNA     M .     GREENE, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


HENRY  MORSE  STEDPHOB 


PRINTED  BY   H.   0.   HOUGHTON   AND   COMPANY, 
RIVERSIDE   PR7.SS.    CAMBRIDGE. 


TO    CHARLES    BUTLER, 

OF   NEW   YORK. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  BUTLER:— You  know  the  history  of 
this  volume.  You  know,  also,  of  my  other  studies  in  the 
field  of  our  Revolutionary  History,  and  my  hope  to  con 
tribute  something  more  to  the  just  appreciation  of  the  great 
men  it  produced.  You  will  not,  therefore,  deny  me  the 
gratification  of  connecting  your  name  with  my  labors  by 
this  public  expression  of  the  respect  and  affection  with 

which 

I  am,  most  truly, 

Your  friend, 

GEO.  W.  GREENE. 

GREENESDALE,  February  2,  1865. 


0,198 


PEEF  ACE. 


THE  following  Lectures  were  written  for  the  Lowell 
Institute  of  Boston  in  1862,  and  read  before  it  in 
the  January  and  February  of  1863.  A  part  of  them 
was  also  read  before  the  Cooper  Institute  of  New  York 
in  March  and  April  of  the  same  year.  Relating  to  a 
past  of  great  present  value,  they  have  already,  I  am  told, 
done  some  good  ;  and  I  publish  them  in  the  hope  that, 
in  a  more  accessible  form,  they  may  do  still  more.  No 
nation  can  neglect  the  study  of  its  own  history  without 
exposing  itself  to  the  danger  and  disgrace  of  repeating 
past  errors.  No  statesman  can  confine  his  attention  to 
the  present,  without  losing  sight  of  the  principles  from 
which  the  present  grew,  and  thus  becoming  a  groper  in 
the  dark,  instead  of  a  trustworthy  guide. 

It  is  impossible  to  read  our  history  without  seeing 
that  we,  like  all  other  historical  nations,  have  been  con 
trolled  by  general  laws.  It  is  a  universal  law  that 
every  principle  works  out  its  own  development;  and 
hence,  as  an  inevitable  corollary,  if  you  accept  the  prin 
ciple,  you  must  sooner  or  later  accept  its  consequences. 
Our  Puritan  forefathers  claimed  freedom  of  judgment 
for  themselves,  and  founded  their  Colonies  that  they 
mi^ht  have  a  home  of  their  own  to  exercise  it  in.  But 


vi  PREFACE. 

they  failed  to  see  that  what  was  true  for  one  was  true 
for  all;  and  the  dark  pages  of  their  history  are  the 
pages  which  record  their  fruitless  struggle  with  the 
fundamental  principle  of  their  own  institutions. 

It  is  a  principle  of  English  law,  that  the  King  cannot 
take  the  subject's  money  without  the  subject's  consent. 
Denying  this  principle,  England  attempted  to  tax  the 
Colonies  through  the  Imperial  Parliament  instead  of 
the  Colonial  Assemblies,  and  lost  them.  Appealing  to 
this  principle,  the  Colonists  claimed  the  right  to  dispose 
freely  of  the  fruits  of  their  own  labors,  and  established 
their  claim  by  the  War  of  Independence.  But  they 
failed  to  see  that,  if  the  principle  was  true,  it  was  true 
as  a  law  of  universal  humanity,  and  therefore  must 
sooner  or  later  demand  and  obtain  universal  application. 
And  this  failure  to  accept  all  the  consequences  of  the 
accepted  principle  left  the  bitter  and  bloody  war  — • 
bella  plus  quam  civilia  —  through  which  we  are  now 
passing  as  a  part  of  their  legacy  to  their  children. 
"Will  not  history  say  that  wise  statesmanship  should 
have  foreseen  this  as  a  logical  sequence,  and  consistent 
Christianity  should  recognize  it  as  the  act  of  that  divine 
justice  which  could  not  have  imposed  the  obligation  of 
personal  responsibility  without  according  the  right  of 
personal  freedom  ? 

The  conduct  too  of  the  War  of  Independence  is  full 
of  lessons.  More  than  half  its  waste  of  blood,  treasure, 
and  time  was  caused  by  the  want  of  an  efficient  general 
government.  What  a  comment  is  the  history  of  the 
civil  government  of  the  Revolution  upon  the  doctrine 
of  State  rights  !  When  Washington,  in  his  proclama 
tion  of  the  25th  of  January,  1777,  called  upon  those 


PREFACE.  vii 

who  had  accepted  British  protections  to  give  them  up 
and  take  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States,  a 
delegate  from  New  Jersey,  Mr.  Abraham  Clark,  con 
demned  his  proclamation  as  "  exceptionable  in  many 
things  and  very  improper  " ;  adding,  with  an  air  of  in 
finite  condescension,  "  I  believe  the  General  is  honest, 
but  I  think  him  fallible."  Has  not  the  present  war 
given  rise  to  many  accusations  which  history  will  record 
with  the  same  wonder  and  disgust  with  which  she 
records  this  ? 

Another  cause  of  the  profuse  expenditure  and  pro 
tracted  sufferings  of  the  War  of  Independence,  was  the 
neglect  to  raise  an  army  for  the  war  when  popular  en 
thusiasm  was  so  high  that  the  ranks  might  have  been 
filled  with  hardly  any  effort  but  that  of  making  out 
the  rolls.  If  I  were  to  copy  from  Washington's  and 
Greene's  letters  all  the  paragraphs  against  short  enlist 
ments  and  temporary  levies,  I  should  fill  a  volume. 
Have  we  not  seen  the  lesson  blindly  and  fatally  neg 
lected? 

A  copy  of  Washington's  letters  in  every  school  and 
district  library  of  the  country,  to  serve  as  a  text-book 
in  clubs  and  debating  societies,  and  a  manual  for  public 
men  in  every  department  of  civil  and  military  adminis 
tration,  would  do  more  for  the  formation  of  our  national 
character,  would  stand  us  in  better  stead  in  difficult 
emergencies,  and  furnish  us  more  appropriate  examples 
of  that  wisdom  which  we  need  at  all  times,  than  any 
other  source  to  which  we  could  go  for  guidance  and 
counsel.  A  careful  study  of  them  by  our  statesmen  at 
the  beginning  of  the  present  war  would  have  saved  us 
thousands  of  lives  and  millions  of  treasure. 


viii  PREFACE. 

"  Why  have  the  fathers  suffered,  but  to  make 
The  children  wisely  safe? " 

I  have  not  attempted  to  give  my  authorities  for  the 
statements  and  opinions  contained  in  these  Lectures, 
for  the  form  of  Lectures  does  not  admit  of  it;  and  if  my 
purpose  in  publishing  them  is  reached,  they  will  carry 
the  reader  directly  to  the  original  sources.  But  I  can 
not  permit  them  to  go  forth  into  the  world  without 
acknowledging  my  obligations  to  the  able  and  trust 
worthy  volumes  of  Mr.  Hildreth,  to  the  judicious  and 
accurate  Annals  of  Holmes,  and  to  that  admirable  series 
of  publications  by  which  Mr.  Sparks  has  connected  his 
name  indissolubly  with  the  history  of  our  Revolution. 
Force's  Archives  unfortunately  cover  only  the  first  two 
years  of  the  war ;  but  for  those  years  they  leave  nothing 
to  be  desired.  What  a  disgrace  to  the  administration 
of  1853,  and  its  immediate  successor,  that  such  a  work 
should  have  been  suspended,  and  the  exhaustive  re 
searches  and  wonderful  critical  sagacity  of  such  a  man 
lost  to  historical  literature,  by  the  arbitrary  violation 
of  a  solemn  contract. 

In  using  Gordon,  I  have  often  felt  the  want  of  the 
critical  edition  which  was  promised  us  some  years  ago 
in  the  name  of  Mr.  George  Henry  Moore  of  the  New 
York  Historical  Society.  In  using  the  Journals  of 
Congress,  I  have  constantly  had  occasion  to  regret  the 
awkward  separation  of  the  secret  journals  from  the  main 
collection,  and  the  want  of  a  new  edition  based  upon  an 
accurate  collation  of  the  original  manuscript,  and  com 
pleted  by  the  insertion  in  their  proper  places  of  the 
fragments  of  debates  and  speeches  that  are  scattered 
through  the  works  of  Adams,  and  Jefferson,  and  Gou- 
verneur  Morris,  and  other  members  of  that  body. 


PREFACE.  ix 

Among  the  other  sources  frorn^  which  I  have  drawn, 
I  would  particularly  mention  the  documents  in  De Witt's 
valuable  work  upon  Jefferson,  and  the  elaborate  Life 
of  Steuben  by  Mr.  Kapp.  Since  these  Lectures  were 
written,  this  profound  and  careful  writer  has  published 
in  German  two  other  works  which  bear  upon  my  sub 
ject, —  "The  Life  of  DeKalb,"  and  "The  Trade  of 
German  Princes  in  Soldiers  for  America."  I  will  not 
say  with  Vertot,  mon  siege  est  fait ;  but  I  have  felt  in 
reading  them  that,  if  they  had  reached  me  before  my 
own  work  was  written,  I  might  have  enriched  it  by  new 
and  important  details.  I  trust  that  these  valuable  con 
tributions  to  our  history  will  soon  be  made  more  gener 
ally  accessible  to  American  readers.  Mr.  Kapp  has 
proved  by  his  Steuben  that  he  writes  English  well 
enough  to  be  his  own  translator. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GREENE. 

GREENESDALE,  NEWPORT, 
February  2,  1866. 


LECTURE    I. 


THE  CAUSES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


T^HE  subject  to  which  I  have  the  honor  to  in 
vite  your  attention  is  one  of  those  events 
which  are  sometimes  overshadowed  for  a  while  by 
the  magnitude  of  their  own  results  ;  but  which, 
when  time  enough  has  passed  to  give  them  a  proper 
distance,  and  show  the  extent  and  variety  of  their 
ramifications,  take  their  place  among  the  decisive 
epochs  of  civilization.  When  the  thirteen  Colonies 
of  Great  Britain  dissolved  their  connection  with 
the  mother  country,  and  determined  that  they 
would  henceforth  have  a  government  of  their  own, 

—  a  government  of  the  people  and  for  the  people, 

—  the  name  of  republic  had  almost  become  a  by 
word  and  a  reproach.     The  United  Provinces  were 
fast  yielding  to  the  selfish  pretensions  of  the  House 
of  Orange,  and  the  monarchical  influences  by  which 
they  were    surrounded.      Venice  —  an  oligarchy 
from  her  cradle  —  was  dying,  as  oligarchies  die, 
enervated  and  corrupt  beyond  the  power  of  regen- 


<2  LECTURE  I. 

cration.  Genoa  and  Lucca  were  but  names  on  the 
map,  asking  only  to  be  forgotten  while  they  lived 
the  passive  and  aimless  lives  of  beings  who  have 
survived  all  the  associations  that  make  life  a  bless 
ing.  While  San  Marino,  still  preserving  in  her 
little  territory  of  seventeen  miles  square  the  spirit 
which  had  carried  her  unchanged  through  twelve 
centuries  of  comparative  independence,  seemed  a 
livinf  confirmation  of  the  favorite  doctrine  of  mo- 

£5 

narchical  publicists,  that  republics,  to  be  durable, 
must  be  small,  industrious,  and  unpretending. 

While  the  incapacity  of  the  people  for  self-gov 
ernment  seemed  thus  to  have  been  set  in  the  strong 
est  light  by  the  failure  of  every  people  that  had 
undertaken  to  unite  -it  with  material  development, 
the  power  of  man  to  govern  man,  both  with  an 
absolute  and  a  limited  authority,  seemed  to  have 
been  set  in  a  light  equally  clear  and  equally  strong. 
The  Seven  Years'  War  had  shown  what  a  small 
state  can  do  against  fearful  odds,  when  its  resources 
are  developed  and  applied  by  a  man  of  genius. 
Russia  was  still  pursuing,  under  Catharine,  the  ca 
reer  of  internal  improvement  and  external  ex 
pansion  which  she  had  begun  under  Peter.  The 
throne  of  the  Hapsburgs  had  never  appeared 
more  firmly  rooted,  nor  their  crown  more  dazzling ; 
and  the  hand  which  the  young  Emperor,  emulous 
of  philosophic  renown,  held  out  to  his  people,  was 
the  hand  of  imperial  condescension.  Never,  too, 
hud  England  been  so  powerful  abroad,  or  so  pros- 


CAUSES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  3 

perous  at  home;  and  never  before  had  so  much 
happiness  been  diffused  over  so  wide  a  space,  under 
any  form  of  government,  as  was  diffused  over  her 
vast  possessions  under  her  aristocratical  monarchy. 

Spain,  it  is  true,  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep. 
But  the  brief  career  of  Alberoni,  within  the  mem 
ory  of  men  still  living,  had  shown  startled  Europe 
how  much  vitality  was  slumbering,  undreamed  of, 
in  the  lethargic  mass ;  and  how  much  a  single  will 
may  do  when  it  is  an  intelligent  and  a  strong  one. 
And  if  France  excited  any  doubts  in  the  minds  of 
thoughtful  partisans  of  monarchy,  was  there  not 
enough  in  her  profane  philosophy,  in  her  infidelity 
under  the  garb  of  formal  devotion,  and  her  insane 
trifling  with  all  that  was  venerable  and  sacred  in 
human  as  well  as  in  divine  things,  under  the  spe 
cious  pretext  of  philanthropy,  to  explain  the  deg 
radation  of  a  power  which  had  more  than  once 
given  laws  to  the  continent? 

But  beneath  this  smooth  exterior  there  was  an 
internal  fermentation,  a  feverish  restlessness,  a 
longing,  vague  in  the  beginning,  but  growing  every 
day  more  definite,  and  even  breaking  out  at  times 
in  energetic  protests  and  warnings  of  deep  signifi 
cance.  To  those  who  had  read  history  aright,  it 
was  evident  that  that  natural  harmony  which  makes 
form  the  spontaneous  expression  of  substance,  ena 
bling  you  to  interpret  the  inner  life  by  the  outward 
manifestation,  and  which  reconciles  anomalies  and 
contradictions  by  voluntary  concessions  and  ready 


4  LECTURE  I. 

adaptation,  was  lost  forever.  Tke  vassal  gave 
grudgingly,  as  an  extortion,  the  labor  which  his 
father  had  given  cheerfully  as  his  lord's  unques 
tioned  due.  The  peasant  hated  the  noble  who 
trampled  down  his  grain  with  his  dogs  and  horses, 
and  forbade  him  to  fence  out  the  hares  and  rabbits 
who  ate  with  impunity  the  vegetables  which  he 
had  planted  and  tended  for  the  food  of  his  children. 
The  merchant  dreaded  monopolies ;  the  manufac 
turer  dreaded  new  edicts ;  industry  in  every  form 
feared  interference  and  repression  under  the  name 
of  protection  and  guidance.  The  man  of  letters 
sighed  for  freedom  of  thought ;  the  lawyer,  for  an 
harmonious  code  ;  the  rich  man,  for  an  opportunity 
to  employ  his  wealth  to  advantage,  and  make  him 
self  felt  in  the  world  ;  the  soldier,  for  promotion  by 
service  ;  society,  through  all  its  classes,  for  the  cor 
rection  of  abuses,  which  in  some  form  or  other 
were  felt  by  all.  Two  worlds,  two  irreconcilable 
systems,  stood  face  to  face,  —  the  Middle  Ages,  with 
ideas  drawn  from  the  convent  and  the  feudal  castle, 
and  the  eighteenth  century,  with  ideas  drawn  from 
the  compass  and  the  printing-press  ;  and  every  day 
the  gulf  between  them  grew  wider  and  deeper. 

But  in  the  thirteen  Colonies  of  British  America 
there  was  no  such  contradiction  between  the  gov 
ernment  and  the  people.  There  were  no  Middle 
Ages  to  efface ;  no  feudal  abuses  to  correct ;  nc 
institutions  which  had  outlived  their  usefulness,  to 
tear  up  by  the  roots.  They  had  been  accustomed 


CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  5 

from  the  beginning  to  regulate  their  domestic 
affairs  according  to  their  own  conception  of  their 
interests ;  and  they  were  contented  to  leave  their 
foreign  affairs  in  the  hands  of  the  mother  country 
in  return  for  her  protection.  But  they  felt  that 
that  protection  was  no  free  gift ;  that  the  restric 
tions  which  they  accepted  for  their  commerce  and 
manufactures  transmuted  every  shilling  which  the 
English  treasury  expended  on  their  behalf  into 
pounds  of  profit  for  the  English  merchant  and 
manufacturer.  Dependence  in  this  form  they  could 
submit  to,  for,  though  sometimes  pushed  to  the 
verge  of  oppression,  there  was  no  humiliation  in 
it.  It  was  the  dependence  of  the  industrious 
child  upon  the  thrifty  parent ;  a  habit  outliving 
the  necessity  vrhence  it  sprang.  And  they  had  too 
much  of  the  English  love  of  precedent  and  Eng 
lish  reverence  for  law  about  them  to  wish  for  any 
changes  which  did  not  seem  to  be  the  necessary 
consequence  of  acknowledged  facts.  They  loved 
their  mother  country  with  the  love  of  children, 
who,  forsaking  their  homes  under  strong  provoca 
tion,  turn  back  to  them  in  thought,  when  time  has 
blunted  the  sense  of  injury,  with  a  lively  recol 
lection  of  early  associations  and  endearments,  —  a 
tenderness  and  a  longing  not  altogether  free  from 
self-reproach.  To  go  to  England  was  to  go  home. 
To  have  been  there  was  a  claim  to  especial  consid 
eration.  They  studied  English  history  as  the  be 
ginning  of  their  own ;  a  first  chapter  which  all 


C  LECTURE  I. 

must  master  thoroughly  who  would  understand 
the  sequel.  England's  literature  was  their  litera 
ture.  Her  great  men  were  their  great  men.  And 
when  her  flag  waved  over  them,  they  felt  as  if  the 
spirit  which  had  borne  it  in  triumph  over  so  many 
bloody  fields  had  descended  upon  them  with  all 
its  inspiration  and  all  its  glory.  They  gave  Eng 
lish  names  to  their  townships  and  counties  ;  and 
if  a  name  had  been  ground  enough  to  build  a  pre 
tension  upon,  more  than  one  English  noble,  who 
already  numbered  his  acres  in  the  Old  World  by 
thousands,  might  have  claimed  tens  of  thousands 
in  the  new.  They  loved  to  talk  of  St.  Paul's  and 
Westminster  Abbey;  and,  with  the  Hudson  and 
the  Potomac  before  their  eyes,  could  hardly  per 
suade  themselves  that  the  Thames  was  not  the  first 
of  rivers. 

More  especially  did  they  rejoice  to  see  English 
men  and  converse  with  them.  The  very  name 
was  a  talisman  that  opened  every  door,  broke  down 
the  barriers  of  the  most  exclusive  circle,  and  trans 
formed  the  dull  retailer  of  crude  opinions  and  stale 
jests  into  a  critic  and  a  wit. 

In  nine  years,  — years  full-of  incident,  and  which 
passed  so  rapidly  that  the  keenest  eye  was  unable 
to  see  what  a  mighty  work  they  were  doing, — 
all  this  was  changed  radically  and  forever.  The 
thirteen  Colonies  became  thirteen  United  States, 
with  a  name  and  a  flag,  and  allies,  and  a  history  of 
their  own ;  great  men  of  their  own  to  point  to, 


CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  1 

great  deeds  of  their  own  to  commemorate,  and  the 
recollection  of  common  sacrifices  and  a  common 
glory  to  bind  them  together.  And  scarcely  had 
this  great  change  been  completed  when  the  French 
Revolution  came  ;  and  then  for  a  time  the  splendor 
of  the  American  Revolution  seemed  to  have  been 
eclipsed  by  the  variety  and  magnitude  of  the  events 
which  followed  it.  Men  forgot,  as  is  their  wont, 
what  their  fathers  had  done,  that  they  might  mag 
nify  their  own  achievements.  Their  eyes  were  too 
much  dazzled  by  the  meteors  that  were  flashing 
before  them,  to  feel  the  full  force  of  the  clear  and 
steady  light  that  was  shining  on  them  from  the  past. 

But  History  forgets  not.  In  her  vast  treasure- 
house  are  garnered  all  the  fruits  and  all  the  seeds 
of  civilization.  At  her  awful  tribunal  men  await 
in  silent  expectation,  face  to  face  with  their  deeds. 
She  assigns  to  each  his  place,  apportions  to  each 
his  reward ;  and  when  the  solemn  moment  arrives 
wherein  it  is  permitted  to  lift  the  veil  from  human 
errors  and  frailties,  and  give  to  man  and  to  circum 
stances  their  due  part  in  the  production  of  events, 
the  wondrous  chain  of  causes  and  effects  stretches 
out  before  us  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  past, 
uniting  by  indissoluble  links  the  proud  aspiration 
of  to-day  with  the  hope  that  was  breathed,  half 
formed  and  almost  indefinite,  three  thousand  years 
ago. 

In  this  light  the  American  Revolution  has,  at 
last,  taken  its  place  in  history,  both  as  cause  and 


8  LECTURE  I. 

as  effect ;  receiving  its  impulse  from  the  past,  and 
transmitting  it  with  a  constantly  increasing  power 
to  a  future  yet  unrevealed. 

What  now  was  the  cause  of  this  rapid  change  in 
the  opinions  and  affections  of  three  millions  of  men, 
— a  change  so  complete  as  almost  to  justify  the 
opinion,  that  it  was  the  work  of  design  from  the 
beginning  ?  How  was  confidence  transformed  into 
suspicion,  loyalty  into  aversion,  submission  and  love 
into  defiance  and  hatred  ?  How  could  statesmen 
be  so  ignorant  of  the  common  laws  of  our  nature, 
as  to  suppose  that  the  industry  which  had  been 
fostered  by  security  could  survive  the  sense  of  se 
curity  ?  How  could  philosophers  so  far  forget  the 
force  of  general  principles,  as  to  suppose  that  the 
descendants  of  men  who,  when  few  in  number  and 
hard  pressed  by  poverty,  had  preferred  a  wilder 
ness  for  their  home  to  a  yoke  for  their  consciences, 
should  so  far  belie  their  blood  as  tamely  to  renounce 
their  birthright  when  they  were  become  a  power 
ful  people,  and  had  made  that  wilderness  a  garden  ? 

And  here,  at  the  threshold  of  our  inquiry,  we 
must  pause  a  moment  to  remember  that  nothing  is 
so  fatal  to  a  correct  understanding  of  history  as  the 
blending  and  confounding  of  the  two  classes  of 
causes  which  underlie  all  human  events.  For  while 
every  occurrence  may  be  traced  back  to  some  im 
mediate  antecedent,  it  belongs  also  as  a  part  to 
those  great  classes  of  events,  which,  gathering  into 
themselves  the  results  of  whole  periods,  enable  us 


CAUSES    OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  9 

to  assign  to  nations  and  epochs,  as  well  as  to  inci 
dents  and  individuals,  their  appropriate  place  in  the 
progress  of  humanity. 

Keeping,  therefore,  this  distinction  in  view,  we 
find  the  first  cause  of  alienation  in  the  colonial 
system  itself.  This  system  had  grown  up  grad 
ually  and  almost  imperceptibly ;  beginning  with 
a  few  feeble  colonists  scattered  over  a  vast  extent 
of  territory,  or  clustering  here  and  there  in  towns 
which,  in  Europe,  would  hardly  have  passed  for 
villages.  These  colonists  had  no  wish  to  dissolve 
their  legal  connection  with  England.  Reverence 
for  law  and  precedent,  as  I  have  already  hinted, 
was  a  national  characteristic  ;  an  inborn  sense  which 
they  had  inherited  from  their  fathers,  and  could 
not  eradicate  without  changing  their  whole  nature. 
They  still  trod  and  loved  to  tread  in  the  footsteps 
which  they  knew.  The  beaten  track  was  a  safe 
and  a  plain  track,  full  of  pleasant  associations,  fa 
miliar  to  their  eyes  and  dear  to  their  hearts.  With 
this  under  their  feet  they  walked  firmly,  like 
men  who  know  what  is  behind  them  and  what  is 
before. 

They  had  brought  with  them  the  common  law, 
and,  as  far  as  the  difference  of  circumstances  per 
mitted,  followed  its  precepts.  They  had  brought 
their  municipal  forms  with  them,  and  adapted  them 
to  the  wants  of  their  new  home.  And  above  all, 
they  had  brought  with  them  the  animating  princi 
ple,  the  vital  spirit  of  those  laws  and  forms,  the 
j* 


10  LECTURE  I. 

spirit  of  English  liberty.  They  had  forsaken  one 
home  for  it,  and  -without  it  no  place  would  have 
looked  to  them  like  home.  It  was  their  inspiration, 
their  guide,  and  their 'comforter,  interwoven  with 
all  their  habits  and  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  in 
separable  from  their  conception  of  duty  to  them 
selves,  to  their  children,  and  to  their  Maker. 

The  spirit  of  English  liberty  is  not  an  abstract 
conception,  logically  deduced  from  fundamental 
principles,  and  applied  to  the  practice  and  purposes 
of  life.  Neither  is  it  a  sentiment,  reaching  the 
feelings  through  the  imagination,  and  giving  its 
coloring  to  thought  because  it  had  already  been 
speculatively  combined  with  action.  It  is  an  in 
stinctive  conviction,  confirmed  by  reason,  deep, 
ever  present  and  ever  active.  You  find  it  first  in 
the  forests  of  Germany,  an  absolute  individuality, 
unlike  anything  that  the  Greek  or  Roman  world 
had  ever  seen ;  strong-willed,  self-dependent,  spurn 
ing  involuntary  control,  yet  submitting  cheerfully 
to  the  consequences  of  its  own  acts.  Thence  it 
crosses  the  seas  as  a  conqueror,  and  suffering,  as 
conquerors  generally  do,  from  the  completeness  of 
its  own  triumph,  it  relaxes  somewhat  of  its  vigor, 
passes  through  many  vicissitudes,  and,  having  sur 
vived  the  associations  both  of  its  origin  and  its 
transmigration,  comes  out,  with  all  the  freshness  of 
its  youth  about  it,  in  the  meadow  of  Runnymede. 

Here  it  entered  upon  a  new  phase  of  existence ; 
a  phase  which  gradually  developed  all  its  character- 


CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          11 

istic  traits,  strengthening  and  purifying  it  till  it  be 
came  the  most  perfect  conciliation  which  the  world 
had  yet  seen  of  the  rights  of  the  individual  with 
the  rights  of  society.  And  this  was  the  form 
which  it  had  assumed  when  our  fathers  first  brought 
it  to  these  shores,  where  for  forty  years  it  was 
allowed  to  grow  at  will,  and  had  already  penetrated 
every  part  of  the  new  society,  before  the  guardi 
ans  of  the  old  bethought  them  of  taking  it  under 
their  protection. 

The  first  fruit  of  this  protection  was  the  Act  of 
Navigation,  so  long  celebrated  as  the  masterpiece 
of  statesmanship,  and  so  tenaciously  clung  to  as  the 
bulwark  of  England's  commercial  prosperity.  The 
foundation,  indeed,  had  been  laid  by  the  Long 
Parliament,  and  confirmed  by  the  courts  of  West 
minster.  But  it  was  not  until  Charles  II.  had 
entered  upon  his  career  of  profligacy  and  corrup 
tion,  that  the  Colonists  began  to  feel  the  chains 
gradually  tightening  around  their  commerce,  and 
contracting  the  sphere  of  their  industry.  First 
came  a  five  per  cent  duty  upon  exports  and  im 
ports  ;  then  the  great  Act  itself,  closing  their  port.' 
to  every  flag  but  that  of  England,  restricting  the 
pursuit  of  commerce  to  native  or  naturalized  sub 
jects,  and  prohibiting  the  exportation  of  certain 
"  enumerated  articles,  such  as  sugar,  tobacco,  cot 
ton,  wool,  ginger,  or  dye-woods,"  produced  in  the 
Colonies,  to  any  country  but  England.  Still  the 
Colonies  grew  and  prospered,  and  still  the  jealous 


12  LECTURE  I. 

watchfulness  of  the  mother  country  kept  pace  with 
their  increasing  prosperity.  As  new  branches  of 
industry  were  opened,  new  shackles  were  forged, 
and  every  fresh  product  of  their  enterprise  was 
promptly  added  to  the  lists  of  prohibition.  The 
Navigation  Act,  in  its  enlarged  form,  was  passed  in 
1660  ;  in  1763  it  had  woven  its  toils  around  Amer 
ican  enterprise  in  twenty-nine  separate  acts,  each 
breathing  its  spirit  and  enforcing  its  claims. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  feelings  with 
which  these  acts  were  received.  Open  resistance, 
indeed,  was  impossible,  and  remonstrance  would 
have  been  unavailing.  Still  the  obedience  that 
was  rendered  wore  oftener  the  air  of  remonstrance 
than  of  cheerful  acquiescence  ;  and  although  the 
right  was  generally  conceded,  the  exercise  of  it 
excited  bickerings  and  heart-burnings  that  gradu 
ally  prepared  the  way  for  independence.  The  en 
terprising  spirit  itself  could  not  be  repressed ;  and 
smuggling,  its  natural  outlet,  became  almost  as 
reputable,  and  far  more  profitable,  than  regular 
trade. 

Thus  the  relation  of  England  to  her  Colonies, 
which  might  have  been  a  relation  of  mutual  good 
offices,  became,  on  her  part,  a  mere  business  rela 
tion,  founded  upon  the  principle  of  capital  and 
labor,  and  conducted  with  a  single  eye  to  her  own 
interests.  They  formed  for  her  a  market  of  con 
sumption  and  supply,  consuming  large  quantities 
of  her  manufactures,  and  supplying  her,  at  the 


CAUSES   OF   THE   REVOLUTION.          13 

lowest  rates,  with  many  objects  that  she  required 
for  her  own  consumption.  What  they  sent  out  as 
raw  material,  she  returned  prepared  for  use.  Her 
ship-owners  grew  rich  as  they  carried  the  sure 
freight  to  and  fro.  Her  manufactures  gave  free 
play  to  their  spirit  of  enterprise,  for  their  market 
was  secured  to  them  by  a  rigorous  monopoly.  She 
had  the  exclusive  right  of  buying,  and  therefore 
bought  upon  her  own  terms ;  the  exclusive  right 
of  selling,  and  therefore  set  her  own  prices.  If 
with  all  these  restrictions  and  obstacles  the  Colonies 
still  continued  to  grow  in  wealth  and  strength,  it 
was  because  in  a  new  country,  where  land  was 
cheap,  the  spirit  of  industry  could  not  be  crushed 
from  a  distance  of  three  thousand  miles  by  the  spirit 
of  monopoly. 

Still  the  feeling  engendered  by  this  relation  was 
not  of  a  kind  to  make  it  lasting.  That  of  the 
Americans  was  distrust  and  suspicion,  strangely 
mixed  up  with  filial  reverence,  —  an  instinctive 
sense  of  injury,  instantly  met  by  the  instinctive 
suggestion,  that  there  must  be  some  constitutional 
reason  for  doing  it,  or  it  would  not  be  done.  That 
of  England  was  summed  up  with  somewhat  more 
of  concision  than  of  elegance  in  Attorney-General 
Seymor's  reply  to  Commissioner  Blair.  Pleading 
warmly  for  a  moderate  enlargement  of  the  moder 
ate  allowance  to  the  churches  of  Virginia,  "  Con 
sider,  sir,"  said  the  pious  commissioner,  "  that  the 
people  of  Virginia  have  souls  to  save."  "  Damn 


14  LECTURE  I. 

your  souls !  "  was  the  ready  answer ;  "  make  to 
bacco." 

A  second  cause,  equally  active,  and  in  its  effects 
equally  powerful  with  the  first,  was  English  igno 
rance  of  America.  Nothing  alienates  man  from 
man  more  surely  than  the  want  of  mutual  appre 
ciation.  Sympathy  founded  upon  respect  for  our 
feelings,  and  a  just  estimate  of  our  worth,  is  one 
of  the  earliest  cravings  of  the  human  heart.  It 
begins  with  our  first  recognition  of  existence,  im 
parting  an  irresistible  eloquence  to  the  eye  and 
to  the  lips  of  infancy.  It  grows  with  our  youth, 
and,  as  we  rise  into  manhood,  finds  new  strength 
in  reason  and  experience,  teaching  us  in  their 
daily  lessons  that  without  it  there  can  be  no  sure 
foundation  for  the  purest  and  noblest  sentiments 
of  our  nature.  It  is  the  only  feeling  which  can 
reconcile  us  to  that  condition  of  mutual  depend 
ence  in  which  it  has  pleased  our  Maker  to  place 
us  in  this  life ;  and  working,  as  all  the  feelings 
which  he  has  implanted  in  our  breasts  work,  for 
the  accomplishment  of  its  appropriate  end,  it  cher 
ishes  in  the  harmonious  co-operation  of  fellow- 
citizens  the  germ  of  that  beneficent  concurrence 
of  human  wills  and  human  desires,  which,  in  God's 
chosen  time,  will  become  the  brotherhood  of  the 
nations. 

Few  Englishmen  had  accurate  ideas  of  the  na 
ture,  the  extent,  or  even  the  position  of  the  Colo 
nies.  And  when  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  hurried 


CAUSES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  15 

to  the  King  with  the  information  that  Cape  Breton 
was  an  island,  he  did  what  perhaps  half  his  col 
leagues  in  the  ministry,  and  more  than  half  his 
colleagues  in  Parliament,  would  have  done  in  his 
place.  They  knew  that  the  Colonies  were  of  vast 
extent ;  that  they  lay  far  away  beyond  the  sea ; 
that  they  produced  many  things  which  English 
men  wanted  to  buy,  and  consumed  many  things 
which  Englishmen  wanted  to  sell ;  that  English 
soldiers  had  met  England's  hereditary  enemies,  the 
French,  in  their  forests ;  that  English  sailors  had 
beaten  French  sailors  on  their  coasts.  But  they 
did  not  know  that  the  most  flourishing  of  these 
Colonies  had  been  planted  by  men  who,  prizing 
freedom  above  all  other  blessings,  had  planted  them 
in  order  to  secure  for  themselves  and  their  children 
a  home  in  which  they  could  worship  God  according 
to  their  own  idea  of  worship,  and  put  forth  the 
strength  of  their  minds  and  of  their  bodies  accord 
ing  to  their  own  conception  of  what  was  best  for 
them  here  and  hereafter. 

Hence,  the  ideas  awakened  by  the  mention  of 
plantations  were  not  ideas  of  brotherhood  and  sym 
pathy,  but  of  investment  and  gain.  Like  land 
lords  who  receive  their  rents  through  an  agent,  with 
out  seeing  or  caring  to  see  the  farm  that  produces, 
or  the  men  who  make  it  productive,  they  merely 
counted  their  money,  and  asked  why  there  was  not 
more  of  it.  And  when  more  came,  it  was  wel 
comed  as  a  proof  that  there  was  still  more  to  come  • 


1(j  LECTURE  I. 

that  the  soil  had  not  yet  been  made  to  pay  its  full 
tribute  ;  that  a  little  more  care,  a  little  more  watch 
fulness,  a  little  more  exaction,  would  multiply  its 
increase  many  fold  ;  and  that  every  attempt  to  turn 
that  increase  to  the  advantage  of  the  laborers  was 
a  fraud  upon  the  state. 

It  was  known,  also,  that  from  time  to  time  crim 
inals  had  been  sent  to  the  plantations  as  an  alter 
native,  if  not  an  equivalent,  for  the  dungeon  or  the 
gallows ;  —  and  what  to  many  minds  seemed  hard 
ly  less  heinous,  that  men  too  poor  to  pay  their  pas- 
sao-e  across  the  ocean  had  often  sold  themselves 
into  temporary  servitude,  in  the  hope  of  finding 
a  home  "in  which  they  might  eat  in  security  the 
bread  which  they  had  earned  in  the  sweat  of  their 
brows.  Philosophers,  too,  comparing  the  animals 
of  the  two  worlds,  had  discovered  that  America 
was  incapable  of  producing  the  same  vigorous  race 
which  had  carried  civilization  so  far  in  Europe ; 
and  that,  whatever  might  be  the  grandeur  of  her 
mountains,  the  vastness  of  her  lakes,  and  the  ma 
jesty  of  her  rivers,  the  man  that  was  born  among 
them  must  gradually  degenerate  both  morally  and 
physically  into  an  inferior  being. 

And  thus,  when  the  eye  of  his  kindred  beyond 
the  ocean  was  first  turned  upon  him,  the  American 
colonist  already  appeared  as  an  inferior,  condemned 
to  labor  in  a  lower  sphere,  and  cut  off  by  Nature 
herself  from  all  those  higher  aspirations  which  en 
noble  the  soul  that  cherishes  them.  His  success 


CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  17 

awakened  no  pride ;  his  filial  reverence  called  in 
vain  for  maternal  affection.  The  hand  that  had 
been  held  out  in  cordial  welcome  to  the  English 
stranger  in  America,  found  no  respondent  grasp 
when  the  American  stranger  returned  to  visit  the 
home  of  his  fathers  in  England.  With  a  heart 
overflowing  with  love,  with  a  memory  stored  with 
traditions,  with  an  imagination  warmed  by  tales 
and  descriptions  that  began  in  the  nursery  ballad, 
and  led  by  easy  transitions  to  Shakespeare  and  Mil 
ton,  with  a  mind  elevated  by  the  examples  of  Eng 
lish  history  and  the  precepts  of  English  philosophy, 
he  was  received  with  the  repulsive  coldness  of 
English  reserve,  and  the  haughty  condescension 
of  English  pride.  Had  it  not  been  that  man  is 
never  so  set  in  his  opinions  as  when  he  takes  them 
up  in  order  to  reconcile  his  conscience  to  a  preju 
dice,  the  best  minds  of  England  would  have  seen 
that  America  had  soon  produced  minds  fully  able 
to  cope  with  theirs  on  their  strongest  ground.  But 
the  choicest  lessons  of  experience  were  thrown 
away.  From  generation  to  generation  the  galling 
insult  was  repeated;  and  still  the  Colonist  loved 
the  land  whose  language  he  spoke,  and  revered 
the  institutions  from  wliich  he  had  drawn  his  own 
ideas  of  the  duties  of  the  sovereign  and  the  rights 
of  the  subject.  But  already  the  work  of  aliena 
tion  was  begun,  and  every  new  demonstration  of 
English  prejudice  was  like  the  loosening  of  another 
of  the  "hooks  of  steel"  which  had  once  grappled 


18  LECTURE  /. 

the  land  of  his  forefathers  to  the  "  soul "  of  the 
American. 

A  third  cause  is  found  in  the  nature  of  the  in 
stitutions,  and  more  particularly  of  the  municipal 
institutions,  which  the  Colonists  brought  with  them. 
For  institutions  have  their  nature,  like  human  be 
ings,  and  will  as  consistently  and  as  inevitably  work 
it  out.  Society  is  a  soil  whereon  no  seed  falls  in 
vain.  Years,  and  even  centuries,  may  pass  before 
the  tender  germ  makes  its  slow  way  to  the  light. 
But  grow  it  must,  and  thrive  and  bear  its  fruit ; 
and  not  merely  fruit  for  the  day,  but  fruit  produ 
cing  a  new,  though  kindred  seed,  which,  passing 
through  the  same  changes,  will  lead  in  due  time-  to 
a  new  and  kindred  growth. 

The  English  colonial  system  was  false  from  the 
beginning,  —  formed  in  erroneous  conceptions  of  the 
laws  of  national  prosperity,  and  the  relations  of 
sovereign  and  subject.  But  still  it  was,  in  part,  an 
error  common  to  all  the  countries  which  had  plant 
ed  colonies  in  America,  all  of  whom  had  carried 
it  into  their  colonial  policy,  and  done  battle  for  it 
by  land  and  by  sea.  Even  Montesquieu,  when  he 
discovered  the  long-lost  title-deeds  of  humanity, 
failed  to  discover  amongst  them,  in  distinct  specifi 
cation,  the  title-deeds  of  colonial  rights. 

But  in  the  application  of  this  erroneous  system, 
the  superiority  of  a  free  over  a  despotic  govern 
ment  was  manifest.  English  colonies  prospered  in 
a  cold  climate,  and  on  a  meagre  soil,  as  French  and 


CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  19 

Spanish  colonies  never  prospered  under  mild  skies, 
and  with  a  soil  that  almost  anticipated  the  labors  of 
the  husbandman.  This  superiority,  and  not  the 
protection  of  her  armies  and  fleets,  was  the  endur 
ing  though  unconscious  service  which  England  ren 
dered  to  America.  Her  colonists  were  the  free 
sons  of  fathers  so  accustomed  to  freedom  that  they 
held  life  as  of  little  worth  without  it ;  and  so  trained 
by  their  municipal  institutions  to  the  forms  of  self- 
government,  that  even  rebellion  assumed  the  garb 
of  order,  and  resistance  to  constituted  authority 
moved  with  the  precision  and  regularity  of  legal 
action. 

And  here,  permit  me  at  the  risk  of  a  digression 
to  remind  you  of  the  important  part  which  muni 
cipal  institutions  have  ever  borne  in  the  history  of 
civilization.  The  natural  growth  of  every  gener 
ous  soil,  we  find  them  in  Italy  at  the  dawn  of  his 
tory,  and  we  find  them  still  there  through  all  its 
manifold  vicissitudes.  They  gave  energy  to  the 
long  struggle  with  Rome.  They  nourished  the 
strength  which  bore  the  imperial  city  to  the  sum 
mit  of  glory  and  power.  They  survived  the  great 
inroad  of  the  barbarians,  appearing  even  in  the 
darkest  hour  of  the  tempest  like  fragments  of  some 
noble  ship,  to  which  the  survivors  of  the  wreck 
still  cling  with  trembling  hands,  in  the  fond  hope 
that  the  winds  may  yet  cease  and  the  ocean  rest 
from  its  heavings.  Need  I  remind  you  of  those 
republics  of  the  Middle  Ages,  which,  gathering  up 


20  LECTURE  I. 

the  lessons  of  Greece  and  Rome,  enriched  them  by 
new  lessons  of  their  own,  lessons  accepted  by  ev 
ery  free  people  as  essential  elements  of  freedom  ? 
Need  I  tell  you  how  the  spirit  of  industry,  how 
commercial  enterprise  and  mechanic  invention, 
and,  better  than  all  these,  freedom  of  thought  and 
vigor  of  creative  imagination,  have  followed  the 
waxing  and  waning  of  municipal  freedom,  still  grow 
ing  with  its  growth  and  withering  with  its  decay  ? 

These  were  the  institutions  which  our  fathers 
brought  with  them  in  their  English  form,  —  surely 
one  of  the  best ;  for  by  virtue  of  this,  while  they 
cherished  that  belief  in  inalienable  rights  which 
made  independence  inevitable  as  an  aspiration,  they 
preserved  those  habits  of  self-government  without 
which  it  would  never  have  been  attainable  as  a 
blessing. 

The  three  causes  which  I  have  already  men 
tioned  would  sooner  or  later  have  produced  a  vio 
lent  separation  of  the  Colonies  from  the  mother 
country.  For  the  colonial  system  would  have  led 
to  a  collision  of  interests ;  English  ignorance  to  ill- 
directed  attempts  at  coercion  ;  the  sentiment  of 
inalienable  rights  fostered  by  English  institutions, 
to  firm  and  resolute  resistance.  But  many  years, 
perhaps  another  century,  might  have  passed  before 
these  causes  alone  would  have  brought  on  an  open 
contest,  if  their  action  had  not  been  hastened  by 
the  concurrence  of  two  other  causes,  one  of  later 
growth,  the  other  almost  contemporary  with  the 
first  three. 


CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  21 

This  last  was  the  fact  that,  in  her  war  upon  the 
freedom  of  colonial  industry,  England  was  at  war 
with  the  spirit  of  her  own  political  system.  She 
had  left  nothing  undone  to  break  down  the  bar 
riers  with  which  Spain  bad  fenced  in  her  American 
Colonies.  The  illicit  trade  which  she  punished  by 
fine  and  imprisonment  on  her  own  colonial  coast, 
was  long  pursued  on  the  Spanish  Main,  almost 
under  the  shadow  of  St.  George's  cross.  Her  true 
interest  required  an  enlargement  of  her  commerce, 
new  markets  for  her  manufactures,  an  expansion 
of  her  navigation  in  every  direction  ;  and  the 
true  interests  of  a  country  will  always,  sooner  or 
later,  infuse  somewhat  of  their  spirit  into  its  con 
duct,  even  where  they  fail  to  commend  themselves 
to  its  rulers.  By  nature  and  by  position  England 
was  the  champion  of  free  trade.  But  her  states 
men,  unable  to  raise  themselves  above  the  preju 
dices  of  the  age,  seem  to  have  vied  with  each  other, 
during  every  period  of  her  colonial  history,  in  do 
ing  all  that  depended  upon  them  to  transform  a 
nation  of  merchants  into  a  nation  of  shopkeepers. 

The  cause  of  later  growth  was  the  fact  that  Eng 
land  was  oppressed  with  debt,  —  her  landholders 
overburdened  with  taxes.  The  monopoly  which 
brought  golden  streams  to  the  merchant  and  the 
manufacturer,  brought  no  evident  advantage  to  the 
country  gentleman.  He  could  not  see  in  what 
his  condition  was  to  be  bettered  by  an  increase  in 
the  shipping  of  Bristol ;  just  as  at  this  very  time  the 


22  LECTURE  I. 

moneyed  men  of  Liverpool  were  unable  to  see  how 
the  Duke  of  Bridge  water's  canals  were  to  be  of 
any  use  to  them,  and  allowed  his  note  for  <£  500 
to  be  hawked  about  from  broker  to  broker  in  quest 
of  a  purchaser.  Town  and  country  railed  at  each 
other,  as  they  have  always  done,  and  the  landholder, 
as  he  gave  vent  to  his  indignation,  called  loudly  for 
some  one  to  share  with  him  the  burden  of  taxation. 
What  class  so  able  as  the  rich  colonists  who  were 
thriving  under  his  protection  ?  That  protection, 
as  he  understood  it,  was-  an  advantage  well  worth 
'  paying  for;  and  with  a  foresight  worthy  of  his 
motives,  he  hailed  the  Stamp  Act  as  the  harbinger 
of  that  happy  day  which  was  to  send  the  tax-gath 
erer  from  his  own  door  to  that  of  his  American 
factor. 

It  was  England's  first  misfortune  that  she  adopt 
ed  an  erroneous  system.  But  this  might  have  been 
pardoned  her,  as  a  common  error  of  the  age.  Her 
second  misfortune  was  that  she  persevered  in  it 

lono-  after  its  erroneousness  had  been  demonstrated, 
& 

and  for  this  her  only  apology  is  the  humiliating 
confession  that  her  rulers  were  unfit  for  their  places. 
There  was  no  period  previous  to  1763  wherein  a 
real  statesman  might  not  have  reconciled  the  just 
claims  of  both  countries ;  giving  to  each  all  that, 
in  the  true  interest  of  civilization,  it  had  a  right  to 
ask ;  imposing  upon  each  all  that,  in  the  true  in 
terest  of  civilization,  it  was  bound  to  bear. 

For  what  is  statesmanship  but  the  art  of  adapt- 


CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  23 

ing  the  actual  condition  of  a  nation  to  what  must 
inevitably  be  its  future  condition,  —  the  art  of  con 
necting  the  present  with  the  past  and  the  future,  — 
distinguishing  the  permanent  from  the  casual  causes 
of  national  prosperity,  and  thus  knowing  what  to 
lop  off  as  an  excrescence,  what  to  root  up  as  a 
noxious  growth,  and  what  to  foster  with  all  the  arts 
of  sedulous  cultivation  ?  More  than  half  the  blood 
that  has  been  shed  upon  this  blood-stained  earth 
of  ours,  has  been  shed  because  mankind  have  per 
severed  in  intrusting  their  dearest  interests  to  the 
guidance  of  men  who  have  no  reverence  for  the 
past,  no  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  present,  no 
prophetic  visions  of  the  inevitable  future. 

How  much  to  attribute  to  individuals,  and  how 
much  to  general  causes,  is  one  of  the  most  difficult 
problems  of  philosophical  history.  But  the  publi 
cation  of  George  the  Third's  letters  and  billets 
to  Lord  North  leaves  no  room  to  doubt  the  part 
which  the  monarch  bore  in  the  contest  with  Amer 
ica.  George  the  Third,  notwithstanding  his  Eng 
lish  birth  and  nominally  English  education,  had  all 
the  arbitrary  instincts  of  a  German  prince.  To 
.free  himself  from  the  hereditary  control  of  the 
great  Whig  families,  and  to  exalt  the  royal  prerog 
ative  above  the  aristocracy  and  the  people,  was  the 
hope  with  which  he  ascended  the  throne,  and  to 
this  end  all  his  policy  was  directed  as  long  as  he 
was  able  to  direct  it.  In  the  searching  light  of  his 
tory  it  matters  little  that  he  was  a  pure  man  in  his 


24  LECTURE  I. 

domestic  relations,  and  an  industrious  man  in  his 
royal  functions.  Not  even  the  sincerity  of  his  con 
victions  can  cleanse  him  from  the  taint  of  unneces 
sary  bloodshed ;  for  he  erred  in  things  wherein  it 
is  not  permitted  to  man  to  err  and  hold  himself 
guiltless.  With  none  of  the  characteristics  of 
greatness  himself,  he  could  not  bear  great  men 
around  him ;  and  while  no  one  can  blame  him  for 
seizing  the  earliest  opportunity  to  throw  off  Gren- 
ville  as  a  tedious  formalist,  no  one  should  forget 
that  the  ear  which  was  reluctantly  opened  to  Chat 
ham  and  Fox  drank  in  with  avidity  the  congenial 
counsels  of  a  Bute  and  a  Wedderbum. 

And  thus  the  English  tax-payer,  groaning  under 
his  burdens,  joined  heartily  with  short-sighted  min 
isters  and  a  narrow-minded  king  in  the  attempt  to 
draw  a  revenue  from  the  Colonies  by  Parliamen 
tary  taxation.  While  the  contest  lasted,  he  sup 
ported  government  with  his  vote  and  his  purse, 
submitting,  though  not  without  an  occasional  mur 
mur,  to  an  increase  of  his  present  load,  in  the  firm 
hope  of  future  relief.  And  when,  at  length,  the 
inevitable  day  of  defeat  came,  he  was  the  last  to 
see  that  the  attempt  had  been  hopeless  from  the 
beginning. 

And  this  brings  to  view  a  circumstance  which, 
though  not  an  original  cause  of  alienation,  added 
materially  to  the  difficulty  of  effecting  a  cordial 
reconciliation  when  the  dispute  became  a  discussion 
of  Parliamentary  rights.  It  is  one  of  the  great 


CAUSES   OF   THE   REVOLUTION.  25 

advantages  of  the  English  constitution,  that  it  has 
grown  up  with  the  growth  of  the  English  nation. 
Thus,  as  society  has  continued  its  progress,  the  con 
stitution  has  nearly  kept  pace  with  that  progress ; 
never  much  in  advance,  never  long  in  the  rear; 
sometimes  guiding,  sometimes  waiting  upon  its 
footsteps ;  but  always  the  faithful  exponent  of  the 
•feelings  and  convictions  of  the  bulk  of  the  nation. 
Some  of  these  adaptations  and  expansions  have 
been  made  silently ;  the  statute-book  reflecting,  as 
it  were  with  an  instinctive  sympathy,  the  mind  and 
the  heart  of  the  people.  But  by  far  the  greater  part 
have  cost  long  and  bitter  contests,  —  convulsions 
some  of  them,  and  some  of  them  blood.  And  in 
them  all  the  spirit  of  the  constitution  has  been  pre 
served,  although  the  letter  has  often  changed,  —  its 
spirit  of  freedom,  which  was  already  a  living  spirit 
under  the  Plantagenets,  though  a  feeble  one,  which 
tempered  the  arrogance  of  the  Tudors,  and  never 
was  truer  to  its  mission  than  when  it  crushed  the 
Stuarts. 

But  while  this  gradual  development  has  been 
attended  by  many  advantages,  it  has  been  produc 
tive  also  of  an  unusual  degree  of  that  uncertainty 
and  contradiction  which  always  attend  the  inter 
pretation  of  a  constitution,  whether  compressed 
within  a  few  pages  like  our  own,  or  scattered 
through  hundreds  of  folios  like  that  of  England. 
An  absolute  government  —  France  or  Spain  — 
would  have  brought  the  claims  of  the  Colonists  to 

O 

2 


26  LECTURE  I. 

the  decision  of  the  sword  from  the  beginning  ;  for 
the  French  and  Spanish  colonist,  in  resisting  the 
pretensions  of  the  mother  country,  would  have  had 
no  legal  or  constitutional  ground  to  stand  upon. 
What  one  arbitrary  sovereign  had  given,  another 
arbitrary  sovereign  might  take  away  ;  and  the  col 
ony  that  was  too  "feeble  to  resist  had  no  choice  but 
to  submit. 

But  with  English  colonists  the  question  of  Par 
liamentary  supremacy  was  a  constitutional  ques 
tion,  a  discussion  of  legal  rights,  leading,  as  men's 
blood  grew  warm,  to  the  sword,  but  necessarily  be 
ginning  with  the  pen.  In  this  discussion,  individ 
ual  opinions  and  party  opinions  were  soon  enlisted, 
awakening  fiery  zeal,  and  gradually  preparing  both 
sides  for  a  solution  from  which  they  would  both 
have  shrunk  at  the  outset.  The  Parliament  that 
"  languidly  "  voted  the  Stamp  Act,  would  have  de 
bated  long  and  divided  often  before  it  voted  an 
armed  invasion.  The  men  who  resisted  it  would 
have  repelled  with  indignation  the  charge,  of  dis 
loyalty.  It  was  by  steps  which  to  them  who  were 
taking  them  seemed  very  slow,  that  the  final  step 
of  an  open  war  was  reached.  Both  sides  had 
much  to  study  and  much  to  say.  Englishmen, 
though  fully  agreed  upon  the  question  of  Parlia 
mentary  supremacy  as  a  constitutional  principle, 
were  far  from  agreeing  upon  the  interpretation  of 
that  supremacy.  Did  it  imply  the  right  of  taxa 
tion  ?  If  it  did,  what  became  of  that  other  funda- 


CAUSES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          27 

mental  principle,  —  taxation  goes  with  representa 
tion?  Were  the  Americans  represented  in  Par 
liament?  If  not,  what  would  be  the  final  effect 
of  this  taxing  without  representation  upon  England 
herself?  The  field  of  discussion  was  immense, 
almost  boundless,  —  embracing,  as  some  of  Dean 
Tucker's  tracts  show,  a  prophetic  glimpse  of  the 
true  laws  of  trade  ;  and,  as  Chatham's  speeches 
show,  a  foreshadowing  of  Parliamentary  reform. 

On  the  part  of  the  Americans,  the  feeling  of  de 
pendence  was  very  vague,  very  indefinite.  In 
some  form  and  degree  they  all  acknowledged  it ; 
but  the  form  was  nowhere  clearly  defined,  the  de 
gree  nowhere  distinctly  marked  out.  The  most 
important  Colonies  had  been  founded  at  a  moment 
when  all  the  best  minds  of  the  mother  country 
were  actively  engaged  in  discussing  the  claims  of 
the  royal  prerogative,  —  the  very  best,  in  trying  to 
set  bounds  to  it.  With  this  feeling  towards  roy 
alty,  the  Colonists  laid  the  foundations  of  the  new 
state,  and  laid  them  more  in  harmony  with  the 
rights  which  they  came  here  to  secure,  than  with 
the  claims  which  they  came  here  to  avoid.  As  the 
state  grew,  those  foundations  became  more  firmly 
fixed.  The  great  problem  of  social  organization 
—  how  far  the  rights  of  the  individual  can  be  car 
ried  without  interfering  with  the  rights  of  society, 
or  impeding  its  legitimate  action  —  was  met  as  a 
practical  question,  susceptible  of  a  practical  solu 
tion.  All  the  forms  of  their  society  compelled 


28  LECTURE  I. 

them  to  think  and  to  discuss.  They  discussed  in 
their  town  meetings.  They  discussed  at  their  elec 
tions.  They  discussed  in  their  General  Courts  and 
General  Assemblies.  Every  question  was  brought 
to  the  final  test  of  individual  opinion ;  and  when 
this  became  merged  in  the  general  opinion,  every 
individual  felt  that  he  could  still  recognize  therein 
something  of  his  own.  They  were  all  parts  of  tho 
state,  and,  as  parts,  had  an  equal  interest  in  it,  an 
equal  claim  to  its  protection,  an  equal  right  to 
control  its  action. 

To  counteract  this,  there  was  their  love  of  Eng 
land,  their  Anglo-Saxon  love  of  precedent,  their 
instinctive  sense  of  legal  subordination ;  —  feelings 
so  strong  and  so  deep  rooted,  that  it  was  not  until 
the  Act  of  Navigation  had,  by  the  slow  growth  of 
a  hundred  and  four  years,  reached  its  logical  con 
clusion  in  the  Stamp  Act,  that  "  the  strong  man 
arose  from  his  slumber,  and,  shaking  his  invinci 
ble  locks,"  burst  forever  the  bands  that  had  bound 
him  to  an  ungenerous  and  unsympathizing  parent. 
Thus  a  false  colonial  policy  led  to  false  relations 
between  England  and  her  American  Colonies  ;  an 
unjust  depreciation  of  colonial  character  undermined 
the  sentiments  of  reverence  and  love  whicli  the 
Colonists  had  piously  cherished  for  their  mother 
country ;  an  insane  hope  of  alleviating  his  own 
burdens  by  casting  part  of  them  upon  his  American 
brethren  led  the  English  tax-payer  to  invade  in 
the  Colonies  a  right  which  he  would  have  cheer- 


CAUSES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          29 

fully  died  for  at  home  ;  and  a  narrow  personal  am 
bition  combined  with  gross  ignorance  of  the  science 
of  statesmanship  prevented  the  adoption  of  any 
effective  measures  for  adapting  the  relations  of  the 
two  countries  to  the  changes  which  a  century  of 
marvellous  prosperity  had  produced  in  their  re 
spective  positions.  And  thus  alienation  and  oppo 
sition  grew,  advancing  step  by  step  —  twenty-nine 
in  all  —  from  the  Act  of  Navigation  to  the  Boston 
tea-party  and  the  battle  of  Lexington. 

Thus  far  I  have  spoken  only  of  the  relations 
arising  from  the  connection  between  England  and 
her  Colonies.  But  both  England  and  her  Colonies 
formed  part  of  a  larger  system,  —  the  great  Euro 
pean  system,  not  merely  as  a  system  of  policy,  but 
as  a  form  of  civilization.  And  during  the  whole 
period  of  Colonial  history,  this  system  was  under 
constant  discussion,  —  discussion  with  the  pen  and 
with  the  sword.  While  the  Pilgrims  were  making 
for  themselves  a  home  at  Plymouth,  and  prepar 
ing  the  way  for  Roger  Williams  and  the  doctrine 
of  soul  liberty,,  Richelieu  was  undermining  the 
aristocracy  of  France,  and  preparing  the  way  for 
Louis  XIV.  and  absolutism.  While  the  claims  of 
hereditary  monarchy  as  the  most  peaceful  method 
of  transmitting  sovereign  power  were  receiving  a 
bloody  confutation  in  the  wars  of  the  Spanish  and 
the  Austrian  succession,  England  was  taking  firm 
possession  of  Newfoundland  and  Nova  Scotia,  mak 
ing  sure  the  fur  trade  of  Hudson's  Bay,  the  fish- 


30  LECTURE  I. 

eries  of  the  Great  Banks,  planting  new  Colonies  in 
the  Carolinas,  and  preparing  herself  for  the  great, 
and,  as  she  fondly  thought,  the  final  struggle,  in 
the  valley  of  the  Ohio,  and  on  the  banks  of  the 
St.  Lawrence.  American  clauses  gradually  crept 
into  European  treaties.  Diplomatists,  with  the 
map  of  Europe  before  them,  began  to  cast  longing 
eyes  on  the  vast  territories  beyond  the  Atlantic. 
At  last  came  the  treaty  of  Paris,  in  1763,  —  the 
proudest  treaty  which  England  had  ever  signed, 
wherein  a  needy  partisan,  grasping  at  the  succes 
sion  of  a  great  statesman,  set  his  name  to  the  act 
which  stripped  France  of  the  Canadas,  and  shut 
her  out  forever  from  the  valley  of  the  Ohio. 

And  now,  thought  the  King  and  his  counsellors, 
we  have  our  Colonies  to  ourselves,  and  can  hence 
forth  make  war  or  peace  in  Europe  as  we  choose, 
without  taking  them  into  account.  But  not  so 
thought  the  French  Minister  at  Versailles,  and  the 
French  Ambassador  at  London  ;  and  while  George 
Grenville,  the  man  who,  according  to  Dr.  Johnson, 
could  have  counted  the  Manilla  ransom  if  he  could 
have  enforced  the  payment'of  it,  was  eagerly  count 
ing  in  advance  the  profits  of  his  Stamp  Act,  French 
emissaries  were  passing  through  the  thirteen  Colo 
nies  in  their  length  and  breadth,  and  Durand, 
Frances,  and  Du  Chatelet  were  sending  to  the  Duke 
of  Choiscul  long  and  minute  reports  of  the  char 
acter,  resources,  and  spirit  of  the  Colonists.  When 
the  ministry  of  Louis  XVI.  were  called  upon  to 


CAUSES   OF   THE  HE  VOLUTION.  yi 

decide  between  England  and  America,  the  archives 
of  the  Foreign  Office  at  Paris  afforded  materials  for 
the  formation  of  a  sound  opinion,  hardly  less  abun 
dant,  and  far  more  reliable,  than  those  of  the  For 
eign  Office  at  London.  Cool  observers  now,  if  not 
absolutely  impartial,  French  statesmen  saw  clearly 
in  1766  what  statesmen  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Channel  were  too  much  blinded  by  pride  and  false 
conceptions  of  their  interest  to  see  in  1776.  "  They 
are  too  rich  to  persevere  in  obedience,"  wrote  Du- 
rand,  just  nine  years  and  eleven  months  before  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  u  They  are  too 
rich  not  to  share  our  taxqs,"  reasoned  Grenville, 
and  half  England  marvelled  at  his  wisdom. 

And  this  brings  us  to  that  second  class  of  causes 
which  I  have  already  alluded  to  as  gathering  into 
themselves  the  results  of  whole  periods.  Lord  Ba 
con  tells  us  that  "a  great  question  will  not  fail 
of  being  agitated  some  time  or  other."  What 
question  so  great  for  our  thirteen  Colonies  as  free 
labor  in  its  broadest  sense,  and  with  its  train  of 
mighty  consequences  ?  For  free  labor  implies  free 
dom  of  will,  —  the  right  to  think  as  well  as  the 
right  to  act.  And  all  Europe  was  agitated  by 
thoughts  which,  translated  into  action,  led  to  an 
entirely  new  principle  of  government,  —  the  great 
est  good  of  the  greatest  number.  The  doctrine 
of  inherited  rights  was  gradually  calling  in  its  de 
tachments,  and  forming  the  line  of  battle  for  the 
decisive  struggle  with  the  doct  *ine  of  natural  rights. 


32          CAUSES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION. 

All  through  its  ranks  gleamed  the  burnished  arms 
of  its  devoted  allies, — waved  the  proud  banners 
which  had  waved  over  it  in  triumph  for  more  than 
half  a  thousand  years.  And  in  front,  as  far  as 
eye  could  reach,  stretched  the  firm  phalanx  of  the 
enemy ;  calm,  deliberate,  resolute,  fearless,  confi 
dent  of  victory.  For  it  was  no  longer  a  war  of 
king  against  king,  a  war  to  decide  whether  an 
Austrian  or  a  Frenchman  should  sit  on  the  throne 
of  Spain,  - — whether  a  few  millions  more  or  less 
of  Italians,  or  of  Flemings,  should  be  thrown,  as 
make-weights,  into  the  scale,  when  their  owners 
were  tired  of  fighting,  and  satiated  with  military 
glory;  but  the  great  war  of  the  ages,  which  was 
to  crush  forever  the  hopes  of  civilization,  or  open 
wide  the  gates  of  progress  as  they  had  never 
been  opened  before.  And  therefore  it  was  meet 
that  the  signal  of  battle  should  come  from  men 

O 

who  saw  distinctly  for  what  they  were  contending, 
and  were  prepared  to  stake  their  all  upon  the  issue. 
As  a  chapter  of  English  and  American  history, 
the  American  Revolution  is  but  the  attempt  of 
one  people  to  prescribe  bounds  to  the  industry  of 
another,  and  appropriate  its  profits.  As  a  chapter, 
and  one,  too,  of  the  brightest  and  best  in  the  his 
tory  of  humanity,  it  is  the  protest  of  inalienable 
rights  against  hereditary  prerogative  ;  the  demon 
stration  of  a  people's  power  to  think  justly,  decide 
wiselv,  and  act  firmlv  for  themselves. 


LECTURE  II. 

THE  PHASES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

IN  my  first  Lecture  I  endeavored  to  show  the  his 
torical  position  of  the  American  Revolution,  and 
point  out  the  causes  which  produced  it.  We  saw, 
that,  as  a  purely  English  and  American  question, 
it  was  the  necessary  consequence  of  the  colonial 
system,  —  a  struggle  for  monopoly  on  one  side,  and 
free  labor  on  the  other.  We  saw  that,  as  a  chap 
ter  in  the  history  of  European  civilization,  it  was 
a  struggle  between  hereditary  prerogative  and  in 
alienable  rights.  Both  of  these  views  will  be  con 
firmed  by  the  historical  sketch  which  I  propose  to 
give  you  this  evening  of  the  phases  through  which 
it  passed  in  the  progress  of  its  development. 

The  first  permanent  English  Colony  in  America 
was  planted  in  1607,  and  by  1643  the  foundations 
of  New  England  had  been  so  securely  laid,  that 
Massachusetts,  Plymouth,  Connecticut,  and  New 
Haven  formed  a  league  for  mutual  protection 
against  the  French  and  Indians,  under  the  signifi 
cant  title  of  the  United  Colonies  of  New  England. 
2*  0° 


34  LECTURE  II. 

History  has  nowhere  recorded  greater  persever 
ance,  or  a  more  marvellous  growth.  On  what,  as 
we  look  at  the  map,  seems  a  narrow  strip  of  land 
betwixt  the  wilderness  and  the  ocean,  with  a  wily 
enemy  ever  at  their  doors,  they  had  built  seaports 
and  inland  towns,  and  extended  with  wonder 
ful  celerity  their  conquests  over  man  and  over 
nature.  There  were  jealousies  and  dissensions 
among  them.  There  were  frequent  misunder 
standings  with  England  about  undefined  rights. 
The  Church,  too,  from  which  they  had  fled  that 
they  might  worship  God  in  their  own  way,  had 
already  cast  longing  eyes  upon  their  new  abode,  as 
a  field  ripe  for  her  chosen  reapers.  But  their 
strong  municipal  organization  controlled  jealousies 
and  dissensions,  even  where  it  failed  to  suppress 
them.  However  vague  English  ideas  of  their 
rights  might  be,  there  were  certain  points  whereon 
their  own  were  perfectly  defined.  And  when  the 
Church  from  longing  prepared  to  pass  to  open  inva 
sion,  they  prepared  for  open  resistance.  They  had 
hardly  emerged  from  infancy  when  they  began  to 
wear  the  aspect  and  speak  the  language  of  vigor 
ous  manhood.  Fo,*  they  had  been  planted  at  happy 
moments,  —  when  James  was  starting  questions 
which  compelled  men  to  think,  and  Charles  doing 
things  which  compelled  men  to  act.  Those  among 
them  which  had  charters  watched  them  jealously 
and  interpreted  them  liberally.  Those  that  had 
not  yet  obtained  them  spared  no  exertions  to  ob- 


PHASES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          35 

tain  them ;  falling  back,  meanwhile,  upon  their 
municipal  institutions  as  a  resource  that  met  all 
their  present  wants.  A  few  more  years  like  the 
past,  and  the  whole  seaboard  would  be  peopled. 

As  yet,  however,  one  element  of  strength  was 
lacking,  —  a  spirit  of  union ;  for  the  New  Eng 
land  Union  was  rather  the  expression  of  an  im 
mediate  want,  than  a  natural  aggregation  of  sym 
pathetic  parts.  Plymouth  was  soon  merged  in 
Massachusetts,  and  New  Haven  in  Connecticut. 
And  both  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut,  which 
had  never  admitted  little  Rhode  Island  to  their  con 
federacy,  would  gladly  have  divided  her  between 
them.  New  York  was  still  Dutch,  and  remained 
Dutch  in  feelings  and  habits  long  after  it  had  be 
come  English  in  name.  New  Jersey  was  not  yet 
settled.  A  few  Swedes  were  trying  to  build  up 
colonies  in  what  some  years  later  became  Pennsyl 
vania  and  Delaware.  Catholics,  with  an  unconge 
nial  code  of  religious  toleration,  held  Maryland, — 
while  Virginia,  the  oldest  and  wealthiest  Colony  of 
all,  had  grown  up  under  the  shadow  of  the  Church, 
and  with  a  reverence  for  the  King  which  seemed  to 
place  an  insuperable  barrier  betwixt  her  and  her 
unbishop-loving  and  more  than  half  republican 
sisters  of  the  East.  Thus  each  Colony  still  stood 
alone  ;  each  still  looked  to  England  as  to  a  mother 
to  whom  they  were  all  bound  by  natural  and  not 
unwelcome  ties. 

Yet  something  which  might  have  awakened  sus* 


3G  LECTURE  II, 

picion  had  already  occurred.  The  Pilgrims  had 
not  yet  gathered  in  the  first  harvest  which  they 
wrung  with  weary  hands  from  the  ungrateful  soil 
of  Plymouth,  when  an  English  Order  in  Council 
was  issued,  forbidding  the  exportation  to  foreign 
countries  of  any  colonial  product  which  had  not 
previously  paid  duty  in  England.  The  only  Col 
ony  to  which  this  order  could  as  yet  apply  was 
Virginia ;  but  what  would  not  a  mother  be  likely 
to  ask  of  her  children  in  the  day  of  prosperity,  who 
already  asked  so  much  in  the  day  of  trial  ? 

Twenty-two  years  passed,  and  a  warning  voice 
came  from  New  England ;  "  where,"  says  the 
chronicler,  "  the  supplies  from  England  failing 
much,  men  began  to  look  about  them,  and  fell  to 
a  manufacture  of  cotton."  Prophetic  glances, 
these,  into  a  distant  future  ;  but,  like  so  much  of 
human  foresight,  thwarted  and  made  useless  by 
human  passion. 

It  was  in  no  unkind  spirit  towards  New  Eng 
land  that  Parliament  passed  the  Navigation  Act 
of  1651,  but  partly  to  curb  the  aggressions  of  Hol 
land,  and  partly  to  arouse  the  slumbering  energy 
of  English  nautical  enterprise.  New  England 
might  have  asked  much  of  the  rulers  of  the  Com 
monwealth  which  she  wisely  refrained  from  asking. 
There  was  little  that  Virginia  could  have  asked 
which  would  not  have  been  granted  grudgingly,  if 
granted  at  all.  The  Commonwealth  passed  away, 
and  the  Restoration  found  the  Colonies  stronger  in 


PHASES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          37 

population,  in  wealth,  and  in  that  spirit  which 
makes  population  and  wealth  availing. 

The  period  of  indefinite  relations  was  passed ; 
the  first  phase  of  revolution,  the  period  of  definite 
subjection,  was  begun.  For  now  — 1660  —  that 
Act  of  Navigation  of  which  that  of  1651  was  but 
the  outline,  and  which  Lords  and  Commons,  histo 
rians  and  orators,  united  in  extolling  as  the  pal 
ladium  of  English  commerce,  a  charta  maritima 
second  only  to  Magna  Charta  itself,  first  took  its 
place  on  the  statute-book.  "  It  will  enable  your 
Majesty  to  give  the  law  to  foreign  princes  abroad, 
as  your  royal  predecessors  have  done  before  you," 
said  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons  to 
Charles,  as  he  presented  the  bill  for  approval.  "  By 
this  act,"  says  an  historian  of  commerce,  "  we  have 
absolutely  excluded  all  other  nations  from  any  di 
rect  trade  or  correspondence  with  our  American 
plantations."  By  this  act,  a  philosopher  might 
have  said,  you  have  opened  a  breach  betwixt  your 
selves  and  your  Colonies,  which  every  year  will 
widen,  till  the  sword  completes  what  the  pen  began, 
and  severs  you  from  them  forever. 

It  might  have  been  supposed  that  there  was  little 
in  those  Colonies,  as  yet,  to  excite  the  avaricious 
longings  of  commercial  monopoly.  But  monopoly 
has  a  keen  eye,  if  not  a  prophetic  one  ;  and  seldom 
does  an  immediate  interest  escape  its  eager  search. 
"  No  sugar,  tobacco,  cotton-wool,  indigo,  ginger, 
fustic  or  other  dyeing  woods,  of  the  growth  or 


38  LECTURE  II. 

manufacture  of  our  Asian,  African,  or  American 
colonies,  shall  be  shipped  from  the  said  colonies  to 
any  place  but  England,  Ireland,  or  to  some  other 
of  his  Majesty's  said  plantations,  there  to  be  landed, 
under  forfeiture  as  before.  And  to  make  effectual 
this  last-named  clause,  for  the  sole  benefit  of  our 
own  navigation  and  people,  the  owners  of  the  ships 
shall  give  bonds  at  their  setting  out  for  the  due 
performance  thereof."  Thus  reads  the  thirteenth 
clause.  A  few  years  later,  Ireland,  which,  as  you 
will  observe,  is  here  put  upon  the  same  footing 
with  England,,  was  excluded  by  name.  You  will 
observe,  too,  that  the  American  Colonies  stand  last 
upon  the  list ;  so  much  had  England  yet  to  learn, 
both  about  their  importance  and  their  character. 
The  articles  mentioned  in  this  clause  obtained  the 
name  of  "  enumerated  commodities,"  henceforth 
an  jrritating  and  odious  name  in  our  colonial  his 
tory. 

Thus  England  took  her  position  towards  the  Col 
onies  deliberately  and  definitely.  Henceforth  they 
were  to  work  for  her ;  to  grow  strong,  that  they 
might  add  to  her  strength ;  to  grow  rich,  that  they 
might  aid  her  in  heaping  up  riches  ;  but  not  to 
grow  either  in  strength  or  in  wealth,  except  by  the 
means,  and  in  the  direction,  that  she  prescribed. 
It  behooves  us  to  ponder  well  this  thirteenth  clause ; 
to  weigh  it  word  by  word,  that  we  may  understand 
the  spirit  in  which  it  was  conceived,  and  the  spirit 
which  it  awakened.  Its  object  was  the  general 


PHASES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          39 

increase  of  shipping  and  navigation,  —  "wherein," 
says  the  preamble,  "  under  the  good  providence 
and  protection  of  God,  the  wealth,  strength,  and 
safety  of  this  kingdom  are  so  much  concerned." 
Words  well  chosen,  and  whose  truth  none  can 
gainsay ;  for  it  is  only  by  the  portion  of  truth  which 
is  mixed  up  with  them  that  radical  errors  ever 
succeed  in  commending  themselves  to  the  human 
mind.  And  here  the  proportion  of  truth  was  not 
only  large,  —  for  national  prosperity  is  closely  al 
lied  with  commercial  prosperity,  —  but  the  error 
was  singularly  in  harmony  with  the  opinions  and 
feelings  of  the  age.  "  So  long  as  your  Majesty 
is  master  at  sea,"  said  the  Speaker,  "your  mer 
chants  will  be  welcome  wherever  they  come." 
Change  the  form  of  expression,  and  what  does  this 
mean,  but  that  superior  strength  is  to  dictate  the 
laws  of  commerce,  as  it  dictates  the  terms  of  a 
treaty  ?  And  what  is  this  but  the  alliance  of  com 
merce,  whose  power  is  founded  upon  interest,  —  I 
use  the  word  in  its  true  sense,  —  with  the  sword, 
whose  power  is  founded  upon  fear  ?  Follow  it  a 
little  further ;  push  it  to  its  logical  consequences, 
and  you  have  that  simple  formula,  so  repugnant  to 
truth,  to  morality,  and  to  religion,  My  gain  is  your 
loss  ;  your  loss  is  my  gain.* 

*  A  great  empire  has  been  established  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
raising  up  a  nation  of  customers,  who  should  be  obliged  to  buy 
from  the  shops  of  our  different  producers  all  the  goods  wi  h 
which  those  could  supply  them."  —  SMITH,  Wealth,  &c.,  B.  I V. 
Ch.  VIII.  Vol.  II.  p.  517. 


LECTURE  II. 


But  could  we  expect  men  to  foresee  the  disas 
trous  consequences  of  this  narrow  and  selfish  pol 
icy,  who  undertook,  as  this  Parliament  did,  in  the 
same  session  in  which  they  passed  the  Navigation 
Act,  to  encourage  the  "  fish  trade  "  by  prohibiting 
the  eating  of  flesh  on  Wednesday  ? 

It  was  a  necessary  consequence  of  this  system, 
that  England  should  henceforth  watch  American 
industry  in  order  to  check  it  whenever  it  entered 
upon  a  track  which  she  deemed  inconsistent  with 
her  own  interest,  rather  than  with  a  view  of  en 
couraging  it  whenever  it  opened  a  branch  useful 
to  the  Colonies.     The  enumerated  list  was  ever  at 
hand,  a  happy  embodiment  of  the  great  principle, 
and  susceptible  of  indefinite  extension.     Not  many 
years  passed  before  rice  and  molasses  came  more 
largely  into  demand;  and  the  spirit  of  enterprise 
was  presently  rewarded  by  their  prompt  insertion 
upon  the  catalogue.     Then  the  hardy  trader,  who, 
at  the  hazard  of  his  life,  had  penetrated  to  the  banks 
of  the  Ohio,  and  established  trading-posts  in  the 
wilderness,  was  cheered  in  his  industry  by  seeing 
his  furs  and  peltries  honorably  classed  with  the 
other  privileged  articles  which  were  reserved  exclu 
sively  for  the  English  market.     Copper  ore  stands 
close  by  their  side,  —  an  enumeration  of  the  same 
year,  the  eighth  of  George  I.,  and  showing  how 
well  prepared  the  House  of  Hanover  came  to  tread 
in  the  footsteps  of  the  House  of  Stuart.     A  still 
wider  sweep  was  taken  by  George  II.,  when  pitch, 


PHASES    OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          41 

tar,  turpentine,  masts,  yards,  and  bowsprits  were 
condemned  by  the  ready  Yeas  of  the  House  of 
Commons  to  make  a  voyage  to  England  —  and 
eleven  weeks  in  those  days  was  nearly  the  average 
length  of  the  voyage  —  before  they  could  be  of 
fered  at  any  other  market, 

The  same  spirit  extended  to  royal  charters.  Al 
ready,  in  the  charter  of  Pennsylvania,  the  right  of 
taxation  had  been  expressly  reserved  to  Parlia 
ment.  And  when  the  charter  of  Massachusetts 
was  renewed  by  William  and  Mary,  or  rather  a 
new  charter  granted  after  the  arbitrary  sequestra 
tion  of  the  first  by  Charles,  all  the  pine  forests  of 
Maine,  not  already  granted  to  individuals,  were 
treated  as  the  property  of  the  King,  and  every  tree 
in  them  of  more  than  twenty-four  inches  diameter 
at  above  a  foot  from  the  ground  reserved  to  fur 
nish  masts  for  the  royal  navy.  A  hundred  pounds 
sterling  was  the  penalty  for  cutting  one  of  those 
trees  without  a  special  license,  with  the  addition 
of  twenty  lashes  on  the  bare  back  if  it  was  done 
in  disguise. 

The  position  was  taken.  All  that  remained  to 
do  was  to  enforce  the  law.  This  required  officers, 
and  they  were  easily  found.  There  were  already 
officers  of  the  customs,  with  their  registers  of  en 
try  and  clearance.  And  now,  to  protect  the  inter 
ests  of  the  royal  navy,  a  new  officer  was  appointed, 
—  a  "Surveyor-General  of  the  King's  Woods"; 
and,  as  he  could  not  watch  them  all  in  person,  he  was 


42  LECTURE  11. 

furnished  with  a  goodly  band  of  deputies  and  un 
derlings,  who,  from  the  chief  with  his  ample  salary 
and  large  perquisites  to  the  subaltern  with  his  fees 
for  specific  services,  were  bound,  each  in  his  degree, 
to  uphold  the  King's  claims  to  the  pines  that  had 
been  growing  there  for  centuries,  so  straight  and 
tall,  without  the  King's  aid  or  permission.  It  was 
a  goodly  net-work,  spreading  far  over  the  land,  and 
gathering,  what  such  nets  in  such  hands  always 
gather,  a  full  draught  of  litigation  and  discontent. 
For  the  Colonists  could  not  bring  themselves  all 
at  once  to  look  upon  the  doings  of  Parliament  as 
kind  and  wise.  They  had  worked  hard  to  make 
for  themselves  comfortable  homes,  and  felt  that  the 
labor  they  had  bestowed  upon  those  homes  gave 
them  a  right  to  enjoy  them  in  their  own  way. 
When  the  Pilgrims  first  came,  their  chief  care  was 
provision  and  shelter  ;  how  they  could  most  readily 
make  the  earth  give  them  food ;  how  they  could 
most  readily  construct  for  themselves,  out  of  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  dwellings  which  should  be  a 
protection  J>oth  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather 
and  a  sudden  attack  of  the  savages.  They  planted 
and  reaped  with  arms  at  hand  for  immediate  use. 
They  went  to  meeting  with  their  guns  loaded  for 
instant  service.  All  around  them  was  wilderness, 
—  a  leafy  canopy  of  boundless  forest.  In  a  few 
years,  fifteen  thousand  acres  of  this  wilderness  were 
under  cultivation.  Everywhere,  as  you  went, 
your  eye  was  greeted  by  cornfields  and  orchards 


1'IIASES   OF   THE   REVOLUTION.          43 

and  cottages  that  told  of  peace  within  doors  and 
without.  And  now,  as  a  new  generation  —  a  gen 
eration  born  upon  the  soil  —  was  beginning  to  reap 
the  fruit  of  their  fathers'  sacrifices,  they  were  told 
that  they  must  not  use  their  strength  so  freely ; 
that,  before  they  employed  the  means  which  they 
had  created,  they  must  ask  permission  of  that 
mother  three  thousand  miles  off,  who  had  looked 
on  so  coldly,  if  she  had  looked  at  all,  while  they 
were  creating  them.  With  all  the  love  they  bore 
that  mother,  —  and  we  have  already  seen  that  they 
loved  her,  —  there  was  an  instinctive  rising  of  the 
Colonial  spirit  against  claims  which  the  tamest 
among  them  could  not  but  regard  as  an  unjust  re 
straint  upon  their  industry.  Even  if  the  farmer 
could  submit,  could  the  merchant  fail  to  see  whither 
these  restrictions  were  tending? 

The  merchant  did  see,  and  became  the  ally  of 
smugglers.  The  farmer  did  not  submit  without 
murmurs  that  prepared  the  way  for  questionings ; 
and  these  questionings,  growing  bolder  year  by 
year,  and  more  searching,  led,  at  last,  to  open  re 
sistance.  Among  the  pine  forests  of  Maine  there 
was  a  hardy  race  of  lumberers,  men  who  could  not 
understand  the  King's  claim  to  the  trees  which 
they  had  been  so  freely  cutting  down  as  their  own. 
From  the  first  appearance  of  the  "Surveyor-Gen 
eral  "  among  them,  they  began  to  make  his  office 
uncomfortable  for  him.  A  feud  sprang  up  between 
them,  which  no  mediation,  no  authority  could  allay ; 


44  LECTURE  II. 

for  it  had  its  origin  in  that  instinct  of  right  which 
often  leads  man  to  resist  aggression,  even  where  he 
fails  to  perceive  its  remoter  consequences.  The  con 
test  between  the  Maine  lumbermen  and  the  royal 
surveyors  was  the  prelude  of  the  greater  contest 
which  was  to  set  American  industry  free  from  ev 
ery  restraint  but  such  as  American  legislators  should 
see  fit  to  impose  upon  it  for  the  good  of  Americans. 
As  the  old  French  war  prepared  Washington  for 
the  peculiar  trials  of  the  Revolutionary  war,  this 
petty  warfare  between  obscure  men  prepared  the 
popular  mind  of  Massachusetts  —  of  which  Maine 
was  as  yet  a  part  — for  the  discussion  of  that 
broader  application  of  the  same  comprehensive 
principle  which  led  step  by  step  to  the  Declaration 
of  Independence. 

Of  all  the  errors  of  legislation,  there  is  none  so 
fatal  as  the  making  of  laws  against  which  the  pub 
lic  mind  instinctively  rebels.  For  it  is  only  when 
law  is  in  harmony  with  the  society  for  which  it  is 
formed,  that  men  will  give  it  that  cheerful  obedi 
ence  which  makes  it  strong  for  the  protection  of 
good  men  and  the  punishment  of  evil-doers.  A 
law  which  violates  the  public  conscience  excites 
first  hatred,  and  presently  contempt  for  those  who 
undertake  to  enforce  it ;  and  from  them  the  feeling 
soon  extends  with  increased  vigor  to  the  source 
from  which  the  law  emanated,  confounding  the 
sense  of  right  and  wrong,  and  undermining  the 
very  foundations  of  society. 


PHASES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  45 

Thus  one  of  the  natural  effects  of  the  Act  of  Nav 
igation  was  to  raise  up  a  generation  of  law-break 
ers  ;  of  merchants,  who  went  regularly  to  meeting, 
doing  the  greater  part  of  their  business,  the  while, 
in  a  way  that  might  have  sent  them  to  jail ;  of  law 
yers,  who  dressed  their  wives  and  daughters  in 
stuffs  that  the  law  would  have  confiscated ;  of  me 
chanics  and  farmers,  who  daily  put  upon  their  ta 
bles  what  they  could  not  have  put  there  if  they 
had  been  compelled  to  obtain  it  through  the  regu 
lar  channels  of  commerce  ;  and  sometimes,  I  fear, 
of  clergymen,  who  quieted  their  consciences  by 
drawing  subtle  distinctions  between  direct  and  in 
direct  participation,  —  between  the  statutes  of  man 
and  the  statutes  of  God. 

The  first  and  only  effect  of  the  reservation  in 
William  and  Mary's  charter  was  to  set  in  action  a 
class  of  men  who  never  act  without  making  other 
men  think ;  and  thus,  by  action  and  thought  com 
bined,  and  directed  to  one  object,  bringing  out 
principles  and  awakening  convictions  that  broke 
through  reservations,  and  made  charters  useless. 

For  thoughtful  men,  earnest  men,  cannot  break 
laws  often  without  calling  in  question  the  authority 
as  well  as  the  wisdom  of  the  lawgiver.  Where 
habit  is  not  formed  by  principle,  principle  falls  nat 
urally  under  the  control  of  habit.  American  mer 
chants  engaged  in  smuggling  because  they  wanted 
a  market  and  money.  In  time  they  came  to  look 
upon  it  as  something  that  everybody  participated 


40  LECTURE  II. 

in,  though  nobody  cared  to  talk  about  it.  Next 
came  the  unavoidable  question,  how  men  who  were 
upright  and  honorable  in  everything  else  could 
be  dishonest  and  dishonorable  in  this.  And  this 
brought  them  to  the  true  question,  When  had  they 
intrusted  a  legislature,  so  far  removed  from  them 
by  habit,  by  association,  and  by  interest,  with  au 
thority  to  control  their  industry  and  set  bounds  to 
their  enterprise  ? 

But  it  was  not  till  after  many  trials,  and  a  full 
experience  of  the  true  character  of  such  legisla 
tion,  that  this  question  was  asked.  The  Colonist 
longed  for  freedom  without  aspiring  to  indepen 
dence.  It  was  not  till  the  spirit  of  monopoly  had 
spread  from  their  foreign  to  their  domestic  com 
merce,  —  it  was  not  till  each  Colony  had  been  put 
by  statute  in  the  position  of  a  foreign  nation  to 
wards  its  sister  Colony,  —  that  they  saw  what  a  vile 
spirit  they  were  dealing  with,  and  to  what  an  un 
natural  condition  it  was  leading  them.  When  a 
hatter  was  forbidden  to  take  more  than  two  ap 
prentices  at  a  time,  or  any  apprentice  for  less  than 
seven  years, — when  he  was 'encouraged  to  buy 
slaves,  and  forbidden  to  use  them  in  the  only  way 
wherein  he  could  make  his  purchase  profitable,  — 
he  felt  aggrieved,  deeply  aggrieved.  But  when  he 
was  forbidden  to  send  his  hats  to  an  adjacent  Col 
ony  that  was  ready  to  pay  him  a  fair  price  for  them, 
and  to  which  he  could  send  them  without  incon 
venience  or  risk,  and  get  something  in  return  that 


PHASES    OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  47 

he  wanted  very  much,  he  felt  that  the  legislator 
who  made  these  laws  for  him  had  made  them  in 
wanton  defiance  of  his  interest  and  his  rights. 
Woollen  manufacturers  were  subjected  to  the  same 
restraints.  Iron  might  be  taken  from  the  mine. 
America  produced,  and  England  wanted  it;  but 
every  process  which  could  add  to  the  value  of  the 
unwrought  ore  was  reserved  for  English  hands. 
It  could  neither  be  slit  nor  rolled ;  nor  could  any 
plating  forge  be  built  to  work  with  a  tilt-hammer, 
or  any  furnace  for  the  making  of  steel.  It  was 
just  ninety  years  from  the  passing  of  the  Naviga 
tion  Act  when  this  last  link  was  added  to  the  chain. 
Such  laws  defied  nature,  and  they  for  whom  they 
were  made,  obeying  nature,  learnt  to  defy  the  law. 
But  now  a  new  phase  begins.  There  are  ru 
mors  of  war  on  the  frontiers ;  not  the  war  of  the 
white  man  with  the  red  man,  but  the  long-cher 
ished  hatred  of  England  for  France,  and  of  France 
for  England,  transplanted  to  America ;  English 
colonists  and  English  soldiers  against  French  colo 
nists  and  French  soldiers,  with  Indian  wiles  and 
cruelty  to  aid  them  in  the  work  of  destruction. 
Already,  in  the  last  war,  the  Colonies  had  displayed 
their  strength  as  efficient  and  active  allies,  by  taking 
the  strong  post  of  Louisburg  without  help  from 
England.  It  was  resolved  in  this  to  bring  out  their 
strength  with  more  system  and  regularity,  and  a 
Congress  was  convened  at  Albany  to  consult  upon 
the  best  way  of  doing  it.  Franklin  availed  him- 


48  LECTURE  II. 

self  of  the  opportunity  to  bring  forward  a  plan  of 
Union,  which,  by  giving  them  a  common  rallying- 
point,  would  have  been  a  first  step  towards  eman 
cipation.  The  English  ministry  condemned  it,  and 
substituted  another  plan,  which,  by  putting  the  con 
trol  of  the  united  strength  of  the  Colonies  into  the 
hands  of  royal  agents,  would  have  confirmed  them 
in  their  subjection.  Both  failed.  But  two  great 
words  had  been  uttered,  —  Congress  and  Union  ; 
and  henceforth  men  began  to  think  about  them 
and  talk  about  them  in  a  way  which  soon  gave 
them  that  place  in  the  public  mind  which  no  ideas 
can  hold  long  without  gaining  a  place  in  the  public 
heart. 

Yet  England  had  never  before  had  such  an  op 
portunity  of  confirming  the  Colonists  in  their  love 
for  their  haughty  mother.  The  war  was  in  one 
sense  as  much  their  war  as  hers.  Success  would 
rid  them  forever  of  a  dangerous  enemy.  Failure 
would  fix  an  enterprising  rival  upon  half  the  long 
line  of  their  frontiers.  Military  glory  had  attrac 
tions  for  their  young  men.  The  prospect  of  a 
secure  frontier  and  enlarged  territory  had  attrac 
tions  for  their  statesmen.  And  the  old  English 
feeling  of  hatred  for  France,  the  old  leaven  of  na 
tional  hostility,  had  lost  little  of  its  strength  by 
being  transplanted  from  the  Old  World  to  the  New. 
Then  was  the  time  for  taking  as  brothers  the  hands 
which  the  Colonists  held  out  to  them  as  children. 
Then  was  the  time  for  soothing  dissensions,  rooting 


PHASES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          49 

out  jealousies,  uniting  judiciously  by  feeling  what 
might  still  have  been  long  united  by  interest. 

You  all  know  how  England  profited  by  the  op 
portunity.  You  know  how  English  regulars  looked 
down  upon  Provincial  volunteers,  on  the  parade- 
ground  and  in  camp;  and  how  they  were  com 
pelled  to  look  up  to  them  in  the  woods,  and  with  the 
war-whoop  ringing  in  their  ears.  You  know  how 
Provincial  colonels  were  outranked  by  Royal  cap 
tains  ;  how  the  distinctions  which  are  the  elements 
of  military  discipline  were  made  to  depend  upon 
the  caprice  of  an  official  who  came  to-day  to  go 
to-morrow,  instead  of  the  sure  ground  of  tried 
merit  and  approved  service.  You  all  know  that  a 
Washington  asked  in  vain  for  a  King's  commission, 
while  the  honor  of  the  King's  soldiers  and  the 
safety  of  the  King's  subjects  were  intrusted  to  a 
Braddock.  And  knowing  this,  can  you  wonder 
that  Americans  thought  somewhat  less  reverently 
of  English  wisdom,  and  spoke  with  somewhat  less 
confidence  of  English  invincibility  ?  that,  while 
they  rejoiced  in  England's  laurels,  they  should 
remember  their  own  wounds,  and  be  prepared  to 
look  more  closely  and  more  sceptically  upon  their 
mutual  relations  ? 

These  relations  had  now  reached  their  most 
critical  moment.  Canada  was  conquered;  the 
North  was  free  from  the  danger  of  foreign  inva 
sion  ;  England  was  triumphant  everywhere,  though 
loaded  with  debt;  the  Colonies  jubilant  over  their 


50  LECTURE  II. 

own  successes,  and  prepared  to  spring  forward  with 
increased  elasticity  in  the  career  of  industrial  de 
velopment. 

There  were  few  intelligent  men,  on  either  side 
of  the  Atlantic,  who  did  not  foresee  that  sooner  or 
later  the  Colonies  must  become  independent.  It 
was  evident  that  what  had  already  been  done  to 
develop  their  natural  resources  was  but  a  feeble 
beginning,  if  compared  with  the  immense  results 
which  must  follow  the  opening  of  the  valleys  of 
the  Ohio  and  the  Mississippi  to  that  race  of  sturdy 
farmers  and  resolute  woodsmen  who  had  so  prompt 
ly  carried  cultivation  from  the  shores  of  the  Atlan 
tic  to  the  foot  of  the  Alleghanies.  Their  popula 
tion  was  fast  approaching  three  millions.  The 
Earth  gave  them  iron,  lead,  copper,  all  the  metals 
required  for  calling  forth  all  her  strength.  They 
were  hardy  sailors  as  well  as  robust  farmers,  as  fa 
miliar  with  the  compass  as  with  the  plough,  and  as 
skilled  in  finding  their  way  on  the  pathless  ocean 
as  in  the  illimitable  forest.  On  every  side  the  thou 
sand  voices  of  streams  and  water-courses  seemed 
to  be  calling  for  the  busy  wheels  that  were  to  en 
able  them  to  join  their  mightier  sisters  in  the  great 
work  of  civilization.  And  when  all  these  forces 
were  combined,  what  was  to  prevent  these  Colonies 
from  dissolving  their  connection  with  England,  and 
establishing  a  government  of  their  own  ?  Such 
strength  could  not  long  be  held  in  bondage  by  a 
small  island  three  thousand  miles  off.  Such  enter- 


PHASES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          51 

prise  could  not  always  submit  to  the  laws  imposed 
by  interested  jealousy.  Such  energy  could  not 
always  be  the  minister  of  another's  will,  the  agent 
of  another's  power.  The  historian  Robertson,  fresh 
from  the  study  of  Charles  the  Fifth's  vain  attempt 
at  universal  dominion,  saw  clearly  that  the  same 
natural  laws  which  had  concurred  in  frustrating 
the  designs  of  the  mighty  Emperor,  would  some 
day  set  bounds  to  the  aspirations  of  England,  and 
make  America  the  seat  of  independent  empire. 
The  philosopher  Smith,  while  tracing  the  laws 
which  govern  the  growth  of  nations  in  wealth, 
found  a  law  among  them  which  marked  out  the 
limits  of  colonial  subjection  ;  and,  following  it  in  its 
development,  believed  that  the  day  would  come 
when  England  would  voluntarily  transfer  the  scep 
tre  from  an  island  to  a  continent,  and  English 
kings  build  their  palaces  on  the  banks  of  the  Hud 
son  or  the  Potomac. 

Had  the  rulers  of  England  been  statesmen,  they 
would  have  assumed  ultimate  independence  as  in 
evitable,  and  set  themselves  in  all  earnestness  to 
prepare  the  way  for  it.  There  was  yet  much  that 
England  could  do  for  the  Colonies,  and  still  more 
that  the  Colonies  could  do  for  England.  Mutual 
good  offices,  cherishing  mutual  affection,  might  still 
prolong  a  connection  useful  to  both.  And  when 
the  day  of  separation  came,  when,  by  the  sure  ac 
tion  of  an  inherent  principle,  both  were  brought 
to  see  that  it  was  now  better  for  both  that  they 


52  LECTURE  II. 

should  henceforth  live  apart,  they  might  pass  by 
an  easy  and  natural  transition,  that  would  leave  no 
heart-burnings  behind  it,  from  the  relation  of  sover 
eign  and  subject  to  the  relation  of  friend  and  ally. 
But  the  rulers  of  England  were  not  statesmen. 

We  enter  upon  a  new  phase,  —  a  phase  of  sys 
tematic  aggression  and  prompt  resistance.  George 
Grenville,  looking  out  from  the  little  watch-tower 
that  he  had  built  for  himself  on  a  crumbling  wall 
of  the  constitution,  saw  that  the  Colonies  were 
forbidden  to  trade  with  the  colonies  of  France  and 
Spain,  and  presently  resolved  to  enforce  the  laws 
against  smuggling.  Naval  officers  were  made  offi 
cers  of  the  customs,  and  exerted  their  authority  in 
a  manner  far  more  fatal  to  legitimate  trade  than  to 
contraband.  The  regular  officers  of  the  customs, 
not  to  be  outdone  in  zeal,  applied  for  writs  of  assist 
ance  to  authorize  them  to  extend  their  searches  to 
private  dwellings.  And  thus  was  brought  on  that 
celebrated  trial,  so  eventful  in  Massachusetts  an 
nals  ;  and  then,  too,  was  first  heard  from  the  mouth 
of  James  Otis  the  watch-word  of  the  Revolution, 
—  "  Taxation  without  representation  is  tyranny." 
The  ministry  persevered  in  its  stringent  enforce 
ment  of  the  laws  of  trade.  The  Colonies  remon 
strated  against  the  restraints  upon  legitimate  com 
merce  ;  pointed  in  vain  to  the  steady  flow  of  the 
wealth  it  brought  them  towards  the  manufactories 
and  counting-houses  of  England,  and  thus,  event 
ually,  into  the  exchequer  itself.  The  line  of  sight 


PHASES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  53 

from  Grenville's  watch-tower  did  not  reach  as  far 
as  this.  He  only  saw  that  the  exchequer  was  low, 
and  —  exact  logician  —  to  fill  it,  devised  the  Stamp 
Act. 

How  resolutely  that  act  was  met,  and  how 
promptly  it  was  repealed,  you  all  know.  Had  the 
spirit  of  that  repeal  been  adhered  to,  the  day  of 
separation  might  yet  have  been  put  off  almost  in 
definitely,  in  spite  of  the  fermentation  of  the  pub 
lic  mind,  and  the  pregnant  questions  that  had  been 
started.  For  if  any  already  thought  of  indepen 
dence,  it  was  rather  as  a  contingency  to  be  feared 
than  as  a  blessing  to  be  asked  for.  Even  what 
George  the  Third  called  "  the  waste-paper  of  the 
Declaratory  Act "  would  have  failed  to  gall  the  Col 
onists  to  resistance,  if  it  had  not  been  closely  fol 
lowed  up  by  the  resolutions  of  Charles  Townshend, 
imposing  a  real  tax  under  the  name  of  impost  duties 
on  glass,  paper,  painters'  colors,  and  tea.  But  there 
was  a  contemptuous  spirit  in  those  resolutions,  far 
more  galling  than  the  resolutions  themselves ;  for 
they  seemed  to  say,  with  a  civil  sneer,  if  you  do  not 
choose  to  let  us  bind  your  hands,  we  will  bind  your 
feet,  and  much  good  may  your  hands  do  you ! 
Other  irritating  acts  were  passed,  renewing  the 
agitation  of  the  public  mind,  and  foreshadowing 
still  more  arbitrary  legislation  if  this  were  tamely 
submitted  to.  England  took  her  ground,  arrogant 
and  menacing,  with  a  threat  on  her  lips,  and  her 
sword  half  drawn.  America  took  hers,  indignant 


f>4  LECTURE  II. 

and  resolute,  prepared  to  meet  threats  with  defi 
ance,  and  the  sword  with  the  sword. 

Resistance  was  organized  ;  —  no  longer  an  ebul 
lition  of  popular  feeling,  easily  aroused  by  the  pres 
ence  of  an  object,  easily  allayed  by  its  removal ; 
no  longer  dependent  upon  a  few  leading  minds  or 
a  few  warm  hearts;  —  but  a  system,  thoughtfully 
devised  and-  thoughtfully  accepted ;  a  necessity 
from  which  there  was  no  escape  but  unconditional 
submission  ;  a  resource  which,  promptly  and  wisely 
used,  would  establish  freedom  on  foundations  that 
could  not  be  shaken.  Patrick  Henry's  Virginia 
Resolutions,  and  the  Declaration  of  Rights  by  the 
Congress  of  1765,  told  the  American  story  in  lan- 
jguage  so  clear,  so  firm,  and  so  earnest,  that  no  man 
not  passion-blinded  could  read  them  and  doubt 
the  sincerity  of  conviction  in  which  they  were  con 
ceived.  And  to  us,  at  this  distance  from  the  blind 
ing  passions  of  the  hour,  it  seems  marvellous  that 
an  English  statesman  could  have  read  them  with 
out  recognizing  in  them  the  principles  and  the 
spirit  which  had  raised  England  to  such  prosperity. 
But  unfortunately  for  England,  her  statesmen  did 
not  recognize  in  them  either  those  principles  or 
that  spirit,  and  the  few  who  read  them  understand- 
ingly  had  no  influence  with  the  King,  no  control 
ling  voice  in  Parliament. 

But  Americans  read  them  and  felt  their  ideas 
grow  clearer,  their  hearts  wax  firmer,  as  they  read. 
There  is  a  period  in  the  growth  of  the  public  mind, 


PHASES    OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          55 

just  as  there  is  in  the  growth  of  the  individual 
mind,  when  ideas  and  feelings  are  so  mixed  up, 
that  men  can  hardly  think  clearly  or  act  firmly 
without  something  to  arrange  their  ideas  and  de 
fine  their  feelings  for  them.  There  was  a  general 
persuasion  among  the  Colonists  that  their  rights 
had  been  invaded,  and  that  there  was  a  design 
of  invading  them  still  further.  There  was  a  deep- 
rooted  conviction  that  resistance  was  lawful ;  a 
feeling,  second  only  to  their  religious  feelings,  that 
it  was  a  duty.  The  doctrine  that  an  English  Par 
liament  had  no  right  to  tax  them  was  not  a  new 
doctrine.  New  York  had  announced  it  by  a  sol 
emn  act  of  legislation  as  early  as  1691  ;  Massa 
chusetts,  in  an  enumeration  of  her  rights  and  priv 
ileges,  in  1692.  Both  of  these  acts,  it  is  true, 
were  formally  disallowed  by  the  English  govern 
ment  ;  but  they  remained  none  the  less  a  part  of 
American  history. 

Nor  was  the  doctrine  that  England  had  a  right 
to  tax  America  new  in  England.  For  in  1696  it 
was  deliberately  advocated  in  an  elaborate  pam 
phlet,  and  no  less  deliberately  refuted  in  two  pam 
phlets,  upon  the  ground  which  Americans  always 
put  it  upon,  — that  taxation  went  with  representa 
tion.  There  had  been  various  other  indications, 
too,  at  various  times,  of  the  continued  existence 
of  both  doctrines  ;  —  of  what  some  Englishmen 
wanted,  and  of  what  every  American  who  had 
ever  thought  upon  the  subject  was  determined  not 


56  LECTURE  II. 

to  submit  to.  Walpole's  advisers  were  not  alone 
in  their  longing  for  American  places  and  pensions, 
when  they  advised  him  to  tax  America.  But  Wai- 
pole  was  almost  alone  in  his  wisdom  when  he  an 
swered  that  America  was  already  paying  her  full 
tax  in  the  manner  most  agreeable  to  the  constitu 
tion  of  England  and  her  own. 

Patrick  Henry's  Resolutions,  and  the  Declaration 
of  Rights  of  the  Congress  of  1765,  brought  these 
ideas  and  convictions,  which  had  been  floating  to 
and  fro  in  the  popular  mind,  to  a  definite  shape  ; 
gave  them  a  form  which  every  one  could  take  in 
at  a  glance ;  expressed  them  with  a  distinctness 
which  left  no  room  for  misinterpretation,  and  a 
solemn  earnestness  which  left  no  doubt  of  the 
depth  and  intensity  of  the  convictions  from  which 
they  sprang.  Henceforward  American  statesmen 
had  a  chart  to  guide  them  in  the  stormy  sea  upon 
which  they  were  entering  :  a  chart  whereon  many 
of  the  shoals,  many  of  the  rocks  they  were  to 
meet,  were  not  set  down,  but  which  contained, 
nevertheless,  in  bold  and  accurate  lines,  the  course 
they  were  to  steer,  and  the  haven  in  which  they 
might  hope  for  rest. 

Resistance  first  took  the  form  of  retaliation. 
England  attempted  to  reach  the  American  purse 
by  taxation.  America  returned  the  blow  by  agree 
ments  of  non-importation.  England  sent  out  ship 
loads  of  tea  subject  to  the  new  duty.  America 
refused  to  receive  it.  England  knew  that  America 


PHASES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          57 

needed  her  woollens.  America  stopped  eating 
lamb,  and  ate  very  little  mutton,  that  she  might 
raise  more  wool  and  make  woollens  of  her  own. 
Had  England's  bitterest  enemy  dictated  her  policy 
at  this  critical  juncture,  he  could  not  have  pre 
scribed  a  course  better  adapted  to  train  the  Colo 
nists  to  resistance,  and  familiarize  them  betimes 
with  the  sacrifices  which  successful  resistance  re 
quired. 

Events  followed  rapidly.  It  soon  became  evi 
dent  that  force  must  be  employed  ;  and  Boston 
being  the  chief  sinner,  a  British  garrison  was  sent 
to  overawe  Boston.  But  all  that  ministers  gained 
by  their  garrison  was  to  bring  on  a  collision  be 
tween  the  citizens  and  the  soldiers,  which  embit 
tered  the  public  mind,  and  prepared  it  for  further 
resistance.  The  act  of  indirect  taxation  —  Charles 
Townshend's  act  —  was  modified  on  commercial 
principles  ;  the  duties  on  glass,  paper,  and  painters' 
colors  were  repealed ;  a  small  duty  on  tea  alone 
being  left,  like  the  declaratory  clause  in  the  repeal 
of  the  Stamp  Act,  to  establish  the  right.  Minis 
ters  could  not  see  that  what  they  were  treating  as 
a  question  of  money,  America  treated  as  a  ques 
tion  of  principle.  The  tea  ships  came.  Some 
were  sent  back  with  their  cargoes.  Some  were 
allowed  to  unload,  and  the  tea  stored  in  cellars  and 
other  places,  where  it  presently  became  worthless 
from  damp.  Boston  went  a  step  further,  and 
threw  it  into  the  bay.  Never  had  King  George 

3* 


58  LECTURE  II. 

been  so  insulted  before  ;  and,  glowing  all  over  with 
royal  indignation,  came  the  Boston  Port  Bill,  and 
the  bill  for  altering  the  charter  of  Massachusetts. 

But  already  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  Colo 
nists  had  been  brought  into  close  communication 
by  the  establishment  of  Committees  of  Correspond 
ence  ;  "  the  foulest,  -  subtlest,  and  most  venomous 
serpents  that  ever  issued  from  the  egg  of  sedition," 
says  a  royalist ;  "  the  great  invention  for  organiz 
ing  the  Revolution,"  says  an  historian  of  the 
United  States  ;  first  organized  in  Massachusetts 
in  1764,  but  not  felt  in  all  their  strength  till 
their  reorganization  there  in  1772,  as  a  Provin- 

£"^ 

cial  measure,*  and  in  Virginia  in  1773,  as  a  Colo 
nial  measure.  The  chain  was  now  complete  in 
all  its  links.  Every  pulse-beat  of  Massachusetts 
throbbed  through  the  Colonies ;  every  fiery  word 
of  the  great  orator  of  Virginia  was  felt  from  New 
Hampshire  to  Georgia;  and  every  bold  resolve, 
every  wise  counsel,  every  budding  aspiration,  was 
transmitted  from  Colony  to  Colony  for  examination 
and  approval.  The  foundations  of  the  Union  were 
laid.  The  Revolution  entered  upon  its  last  phase  ; 
and  it  was  henceforth  but  a  question  of  a  year 
more  or  a  year  less,  how  soon  a  new  Congress 

*  "  These  last  [Committees  of  Correspondence]  were  engines 
which  operated  with  more  energy  and  consistency  than  any 
others  which  were  put  in  motion  in  the  commencement  of  our 
opposition :  they  may  be  called  the  corner-stone  of  our  revolu 
tion  or  new  empire."  —  Mr.  Dana  to  Mr.  Gerry,  Austin's  Life  of 
Gerry,  Vol  L  pp.  299,  390. 


PHASES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          59 

chould  gather  up  the  rich  inheritance  of  the  Con 
gress  of  1765,  and  declare  the  independence  of  the 
Colonies. 

We,  with  the  whole  of  this  past  before  us,  with 
all  its  scattered  elements  wrought  into  an  harmoni 
ous  series,  can  see  this  necessity  plainly  enough 
But  it  was  by  no  means  so  easy  to  see  it  then 
Many  Americans,  who  loved  their  own  country  de 
votedly,  still  clung  with  lingering  aifection  to  the 
country  of  their  forefathers ;  watching  with  sad 
dened  eyes  each  cherished  tie  as  it  snapped  asunder, 
and  hoping  in  hope's  despite  that  some  one  among 
them  might  yet  prove  strong  enough  to  hold  parent 
and  child  together.  Of  those  who  thus  hoped  to 
the  last  was  Washington  himself.  It  may  well  be 
doubted  whether  reconciliation  was  any  longer  pos 
sible.  But  the  great  Congress  of  1774  did  not 
doubt  it,  and  gave  their  hopes  utterance  in  a  new 
memorial  and  new  addresses,  whicli  led  to  no  other 
result  than  to  show  how  completely  they  had  over 
rated  the  heart  of  the  King  and  the  intelligence 
of  his  ministers.  Meanwhile,  the  country  was 
arming.  Old  soldiers,  the  veterans  of  the  old 
French  war,  furbished  up  their  arms.  Young 
men  met  to  learn  the  drill  and  go  through  their 
evolutions  together.  On  the  19th  of  April,  1775, 
the  collision  between  British  soldiers  and  American 
citizens,  whicli  had  already  occurred  in  the  streets  of 
New  York  and  Boston,  was  renewed  in  the  fields  of 
Lexington.  Too  much  blood  was  shed  on  that  holy 


60  LECTURE  II. 

day  to  be  forgotten,  either  by  those  who  shed  it  or 
those  who  gave  it  so  freely.  On  the  10th  of  May 
the  second  Congress  met ;  and  at  the  dawn  of  that 
same  day,  before  they  were  yet  organized,  Ethan 
Allen  took  possession,  in  their  name,  of  Ticon- 
deroga,  the  key  of  the  Canadas. 

Thirteen  anxious  months,  twenty-four  feverish 
days,  were  yet  to  pass  before  the  irrevocable  step 
was  taken.  But  independence  had  already  been 
foreseen  as  a  necessity  before  it  was  accepted  as  a 
boon ;  and  when  the  solemn  declaration  was  sent 
forth  on  its  errand  of  justice  and  mercy,  the  last 
lingering  hope  of  reconciliation  had  long  been  ex 
tinguished  in  the  heart  of  Washington.  The  Rev 
olution  was  accomplished ;  the  War  of  Indepen 
dence  began. 

A  war  which,  at  first,  neither  party  was  pre 
pared  for ;  of  which  neither  party  had  compre 
hended  the  magnitude,  nor  foreseen  the  duration. 
England  had  rated  the  courage  of  the  Colonists  too 
low  to  call  out  her  strength  for  a  serious  con 
test.  America  had  rated  her  patriotism  too  high 
to  take  advantage,  as  she  might  and  ought  to  have 
done,  of  the  first  fervor  of  popular  zeal.  Lexing 
ton  and  Bunker  Hill  taught  the  English  to  respect 
irregular  troops.  But  they  respected  them  too 
much.  They  taught  the  Americans  to  rely  upon 
undisciplined  ardor  ;  but  they  carried  their  reliance 
too  far.  In  a  few  months,  the  men  who  had  for 
saken  their  fields  and  firesides  for  the  camp  before 


PHASES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.  61 

Boston  forsook  the  camp  as  their  terms  of  service 
expired,  and  they  began  to  think  how  profitless 
their  fields  and  how  lonely  their  firesides  must  be 
without  them.  New  men  came  in  very  slowly  to 
take  their  places,  and  the  work  of  instruction  and 
discipline  was  to  be  begun  anew  at  the  beginning 
of  each  campaign. 

The  first  period  of  the  war  covers  a  series  of 
reverses  and  humiliations,  imperfectly  redeemed 
by  occasional  success.  Washington  was  firmly 
taking  his  place  as  the  controlling  mind  ;  but  there 
were  still  some  who  thought  themselves  his  equals, 
and  a  few  who  fancied  themselves  his  superiors. 
The  surprise  of  Trenton,  the  brilliant  winter  march 
into  the  Jerseys,  tore  away  the  scales  from  most 
eyes.  Yet  more  than  one  still  wilfully  turned 
away  from  the  light;  men  who,  having  read  of 
Caesar  and  Cromwell,  forgot,  or  failed  to  see,  that 
America  was  neither  corrupt  Rome  nor  aristocratic 
England,  —  that  there  were  neither  the  elements 
of  a  monarchy  in  her  institutions,  nor  of  a  usurper 
in  her  pure-minded  leader.  And  thus  new  obsta 
cles  were  wantonly  thrown  in  his  way;  even  a 
rival  brought  forward  to  divide  the  public  mind, 
and  supplant  him,  if  possible,  in  the  public  heart. 

The  spring,  summer,  and  autumn  of  1777  were 
critical  moments.  England  was  meditating  a  fear 
ful  blow ;  nothing  less  than  the  severing  of  the 
Eastern  from  the  Middle  States,  by  seizing  the  line 
of  the  Hudson  and  opening  communication  with 


02  LECTURE  IL 

Canada  by  Lake  George  and  Lake  Cham  plain. 
Burgoyne  was  coming  down,  with  his  English  and 
German  veterans,  and  their  Indian  allies.  Howe 
was  going  up,  with  his  ships  on  the  river,  and  his 
troops  on  its  banks.  Severed  from  her  Southern 
sisters,  would  New  England  have  fallen  ?  Cut  off 
from  New  England,  with  their  principal  city  al 
ready  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  their  second  city 
defenceless,  and  their  long  seaboard  exposed  to 
hourly  invasion,  could  the  Middle  and  Southern 
States  have  persevered  ?  Thank  God,  we  need  not 
seek  to  penetrate  these  recesses  of  a  once  possible 
future.  It  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  His  mercy 
spared  us  the  trial,  and  averted  the  blow  when  it 
seemed  to  be  already  descending  upon  our  heads. 

We  now  know  by  what  human  ministry  it  was 
done.  We  now  know  that  Charles  Lee,  then  a 
prisoner  in  New  York,  brooding  over  the  failure  of 
his  own  schemes  of  selfish  aggrandizement,  pre 
pared  for  the  Howes  a  plan  of  operations  in  the 
South,  which,  if  vigorously  carried  out,  would  have 
been  no  less  fatal  to  our  cause  than  the  invasion 
that  was  threatening  us  from  the  North.  We 
know  that  the  English  General,  without  accepting 
it  in  its  full  extent,  accepted  it  so  far  as  to  re 
nounce  his  plan  of  co-operation  with  Burgoyne,  and 
turn  his  arms  against  Philadelphia.  Thus  Schuy- 
ler  was  left  free  to  heap  up  obstacle  upon  obstacle 
in  the  path  of  Burgoyne,  and  Gates  to  reap  the 
fruit  of  Schuyler's  labors. 


PHASES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          63 

This,  too,  was  the  time  when  Washington's  per 
sonal  enemies  were  busiest  and  fullest  of  hope;  when 
his  prudence  was  condemned  as  sloth,  his  caution 
as  irresolution;  when  his  wisest  measures  were  mis 
represented,  and  failures,  which  he  had  not  the 
means  to  prevent,  boldly  laid  to  his  charge,  be 
cause  it  was  well  known  that  he  would  never  re 
veal  the  secret  of  his  country's  weakness  to  his 
country's  enemies  in  order  to  shield  himself  from 
the  calumnies  of  his  own.  And  thus,  through  cal 
umny  and  reproach,  the  great,  good  man  went 
firmly  forward  in  the  path  of  duty,  and  cast  the 
bold  attack  of  German  town  into  the  scale  which, 
turning  wholly  towards  us  by  the  capitulation  of 
Saratoga,  gave  us  the  long-coveted  alliance  with 
France. 

From  that  time,  Washington's  superiority  was 
scarcely  disputed.  He  became  the  representative 
of  the  Revolution  ;  towering  above  all  others  in 
America,  as  Franklin  towered  above  all  others  in 
Europe.  The  army  looked  up  to  him  with  rever 
ence,  warmed  by  love.  Citizens  acknowledged 
that  his  virtue  was  as  exalted  as  his  wisdom.  And 
Congress,  which  —  no  longer  the  Congress  of  the 
"Declaration" — had  lost  much  of  its  hold  upon 
the  public  mind,  was  mainly  indebted  to  the  re 
spectful  deference  with  which  he  continued  to  treat 
it,  for  that  portion  of  public  confidence  which  it 
still  retained. 

The  autumn   of  1777   and  the  winter  that  fol- 


64  LECTURE  II. 

lowed* it  were  the  turning  points  in  the  war.  The 
establishment  of  Washington's  supremacy  gave  a 
more  decided  character  of  unity  to  our  civil  as  well 
as  to  our  military  councils.  The  moral  effect  of 
the  military  successes  of  the  autumn  was  confirmed 
by  the  introduction  of  a  uniform  system  of  disci 
pline  and  manoeuvre,  under  the  direction  of  Baron 
Steuben.  And  Congress  had  formed  the  plan  of  a 
general  government  under  the  title  of  Confedera 
tion,  which,  with  all  its  imperfections,  corrected 
some  mistakes,  supplied  some  deficiencies,  and  pos 
sessed  some  of  the  elements  of  legislative  strength. 
As  we  look  back  upon  these  events  from  our 
present  point  of  view,  with  the  results  as  well  as 
the  causes  before  us,  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  un 
derstand  how  anybody  could  still  have  doubted 
the  success  of  the  Americans.  They  had  a  skil 
ful  leader ;  they  had  a  powerful  ally ;  they  had 
the  early  hope  of  an  organized  government;  they 
had  resources  which  industry,  judiciously  directed, 
would  soon  multiply  many  fold.  But  to  their  eyes 
the  horizon  was  still  dark  with  many  clouds.  Their 
army  was  half  clad,  imperfectly  equipped,  badly 
fed,  inadequately  paid ;  their  agriculture  was  ex 
posed  to  the  inroads  of  the  enemy,  their  commerce 
to  the  enemy's  cruisers ;  their  credit,  already  low, 
was  daily  sinking  lower  ;  their  currency  was  chief 
ly  a  depreciated  and  depreciating  paper ;  and  even 
of  that  there  was  not  enough  to  meet  the  daily  de 
mands  of  the  civil  and  military  service.  We  won- 


PHASES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          65 

der  less  that  some  should  have  doubted,  than  that 
so  many  should  have  continued  to  hope.  Month 
after  month  wore  slowly  away.  Campaign  fol 
lowed  campaign,  with  a  loss  here  and  a  gain  there, 
a  small  victory  to-day,  a  small  defeat  to-morrow ; 
things  little  changed  in  the  North,  but  the  South 
nearly  lost ;  and  thus  we  reach  the  winter  of 
1780-81. 

Then  began  the  brilliant  period  of  the  war :  first, 
that  brilliant  campaign  of  a  Northern  general  in 
the  Carolinas,  —  a  campaign  in  which  skill  sup 
plied  the  place  of  strength,  judgment  and  energy 
created  resources,  and  a  leader,  who  never  won  a 
decisive  victory,  never  fought  a  battle  by  which  he 
did  not  compel  his  enemy  to  retreat.  Thus  Guil- 
ford  drove  Cornwallis  back  upon  Wilmington ; 
Hobkirk's  Hill  compelled  Lord  Rawdon  to  evacu 
ate  Camden  ;  the  repulse  before  "  Ninety-six  "  was 
followed  by  the  immediate  withdrawal  of  the  Brit 
ish  garrison ;  and  Eutaw  sent  the  British  army,  in 
swift  retreat,  upon  Charleston.  The  year  which, 
in  Carolina,  had  opened  so  auspiciously  for  the 
British  arms,  left  them  nothing  at  its  close  but  an 
insecure  foothold  on  a  narrow  strip  of  coast. 

Equally  rapid  and  equally  fatal  to  their  hopes 
was  the  progress  of  the  campaign  in  Virginia. 
First  Arnold's  invasion  ;  then  Cornwallis's  ;  and 
opposed  to  them,  Lafayette  and  Steuben,  —  the  gay 
young  representative  of  France,  and  the  gallant 
German  who  had  followed  Frederic  through  the 


66  LECTURE  it. 

Seven  Years'  War ;  and  last,  that  miraculous  march 
of  the  whole  Northern  army  upon  Yorktown ;  so 
boldly  conceived,  so  judiciously  planned,  so  skilful 
ly  executed,  so  wonderfully  concealed,  while  con 
cealment  was  necessary,  and  which  burst  at  last 
upon  the  astonished  enemy  like  a  thunder-storm  at 
midnight,  when  the  peal  and  the  flash  are  the  first 
that  men  know  of  its  approach. 

And  making  possible  this  triumph  of  the  sword, 
the  appointment  of  Robert  Morris  as  financier,  who 
saved  his  country  from  bankruptcy,  and  barely  es 
caped  dying  in  the  debtor's  prison. 

The  infatuation  of  the  King,  the  intrigues  of 
placemen  and  men  who  wanted  places,  protracted 
the  war  through  another  year ;  adding  a  few 
rills  to  the  torrents  of  blood  that  had  already 
been  shed,  a  few  broken  hearts  to  the  hearts  that 
had  already  been  broken  ;  but  independence  was 
secure,  and  the  Peace  that  was  formally  signed  in 
Paris  in  1783  had  been  virtually  signed  in  1781, 
on  the  plains  of  Carolina  and  in  the  trenches 
of  Yorktown. 


LECTURE  III. 

THE  CONGRESS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

"TTTE  have  followed  the  Revolution  through  all 
T  T  its  phases,  from  the  sowing  of  the  seed  to  the 
gathering  in  of  the  abundant  harvest.  We  have 
seen  that  it  began  with  the  Navigation  Act  of  1660  ; 
that  it  worked  slowly  and  surely,  silently  too  for 
the  most  part,  though  not  without  occasional  indi 
cations  of  its  progress,  till  the  Congress  of  1754  ; 
that  it  received  a  new  impulse  from  the  old  French 
war;  and  thenceforward,  with  the  mind  of  New 
England  prepared  for  the  reception  of  its  doctrines 
by  the  contest  between  monopoly  and  free  labor, 
more  persistently  waged  there  than  in  the  sister 
Colonies,  it  broke  out  in  legal  resistance  to  the  writs 
of  assistance,  in  forcible  resistance  to  the  Stamp 
Act,  and,  spreading  through  the  whole  country,  re 
ceived  a  definite  direction  from  the  Congress  of 
1765  ;  an  effective  organization  in  the  Committees 
of  Correspondence  ;  deliberate  expression  in  the 
tea-question ;  and  a  natural  termination  in  the 
Declaration  of  Independence. 

We  have  traced  the  war  rapidly  from  the  camp 


68  LECTURE  III. 

before  Boston  to  the  French  alliance,  and  the  gen 
eral  acceptance  of  the  supremacy  of  Washing 
ton, —  its  period  of  real  doubt  and  real  uncertainty, 
though  not  the  period  of  greatest  suffering,  nor, 
except  for  a  few  weeks,  of  deepest  depression ; 
and  thence  to  the  immortal  campaign  of  1781  and 
the  peace  of  1783. 

In  going  over  a  subject  of  such  extent,  I  have 
necessarily  taken  many  things  for  granted  ;  have 
often  been  compelled  to  trust  to  your  previous 
reading  for  my  justification,  and  may  sometimes 
have  appeared  obscure  where  I  studied  to  be  con 
cise.  I  foresee  the  same  difficulty,  though  not  to 
the  same  degree,  in  the  remainder  of  our  course. 

Our  subject  this  evening  is  the  Congress  of  the 
Revolution ;  and  by  the  Revolution,  as  you  have 
already  seen,  I  mean  not  only  the  War  of  Inde 
pendence,  but  the  change  of  public  sentiment,  the 
alteration  in  the  relations  between  England  and 
the  Colonies,  which  produced  that  war.  In  both 
of  these,  Congress  bore  an  important  part. 

The  first  Congress,  as  well  as  the  first  essay  of 
union,  belong  to  early  colonial  history.  The  first 
union,  as  I  have  already  said,  was  that  of  New 
England  in  1643.  The  first  Congress  was  that  of 
New  York,  in  1690.  The  suggestion  came  from 
Massachusetts,  and  the  place  first  indicated  for  the 
meeting  was  Rhode  Island.  But  this  was  subse 
quently  changed  to  New  York ;  and  there,  upon 
a  call  of  the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts  by 


CONGRESS    OF    THE   REVOLUTION.       69 

circular  letters,  delegates  from  Massachusetts,  Ply 
mouth,  Connecticut,  and  New  York  met  to  pre 
pare  a  plan  of  concerted  action  for  the  invasion  of 
Canada.  And  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that  the 
Massachusetts  government,  which  made  the  call, 
was  the  government  which'  sprang  up  between  the 
overthow  of  Andros  and  the  arrival  of  the  new 
charter,  and  in  which  the  popular  element  was 
more  freely  mingled ;  and  the  New  York  govern 
ment  which  accepted  it  was  the  government  of 
Leisler,  which  sprang  directly  from  an  uprising 
of  the  people.  Thus  the  earliest  utterance  of  the 
people's  voice  was  a  call  for  union. 

Far  more  important,  however,  was  the  Albany 
Congress  of  1754.  Seven  Colonies,  New  York, 
Pennsylvania,  Maryland,  and  the  four  Colonies  of 
New  England,  stronger  by  the  growth,  wiser  by 
the  experience  of  another  half-century,  met  in 
Congress,  ostensibly  to  renew  the  treaty  with  the 
Six  Nations,  really,  to  take  counsel  together  about 
a  plan  of  union  and  confederacy.  In  feeling,  Vir 
ginia  was  with  them  also  ;  but  the  quarrel  between 
her  Governor  and  House  of  Burgesses  rendered  it 
impossible  for  her  to  send  a  legal  delegation.  The 
delegates  from  Massachusetts  came  with  authority 
to  enter  at  once  upon  the  true  subject,  and  pledge 
her  to  the  union ;  for  already  the  Board  of  Trade 
had  inclined  its  ears  to  the  suggestions  of  the  royal 
Governors ;  and  salaries,  pensions,  and  sinecures, 
for  which  nothing  but  taxation  could  have  supplied 


70  LECTURE  III. 

the  means,  floated  in  dazzling  visions  before  the 
eyes  of  placemen  and  courtiers. 

No  one  doubted  the  importance  of  union,  —  the 
necessity  of  concerted  action.  War  was  at  the 
door ;  war  on  the  sea-board ;  war  all  along  their 
northern  and  their  western  frontier.  They  had 
men  and  they  had  money ;  but  without  union  nei 
ther  their  men  nor  their  money  could  be  made 
subservient  to  the  common  welfare. 

On  the  19th  of  June  the  delegates  met,  twenty- 
five  in  all,  —  local  celebrities  of  their  day  and  gen 
eration,  —  earnest  and  thoughtful  men.  But  wisest 
of  them  all,  and  with  a  wisdom  not  of  his  day  and 
generation  alone,  but  of  all  ages,  that  son  of  a  Bos 
ton  soap-boiler,  who  was  born  in  Milk  Street,  and 
whose  serene  face  looks  down  upon  us,  lifelike, 
in  Greenough's  bronze,  as  we  go  through  School 
Street.  It  was  impossible  that  what  concerned  the 
welfare  of  the  Colonies  so  nearly  should  escape  the 
keen  eye  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  He  had  thought 
of  it,  indeed,  long  and  deeply  and  wisely,  as  was 
his  wont ;  drawing,  perhaps,  some  ideas  from 
Penn's  plan  of  1697,  and  Coxe's  Corolana,  first 
published  in  1722,  and  republished  in  1741.  But 
whatever  entered  his  plastic  mind  came  out  again 
with  that  mind's  impress  upon  it ;  and  one  of  the 
characteristics  of  that  mind  was  its  power  of  com 
prehending  present  wants,  and  of  meeting  them, 
not  by  palliatives,  but  by  remedies.  A  judicious 
employment  of  the  resources  of  the  Colonies  for 


CONGRESS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       71 

the  protection  of  the  Colonies,  was  the  want ;  un 
ion  the  remedy.  This  all  saw,  all  felt.  But  the 
conditions  under  which  that  remedy  could  best  be 
applied  were  imperfectly  seen  and  understood,  both 
in  England  and  in  America. 

Franklin,  who  cheerfully  set  his  name  to  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  in  1776,  had  no 
thought  of  asking  for  independence  in  1754.  That 
it  must  some  day  come,  that  such  Colonies  would 
sooner  or  later  grow  beyond  the  control  of  a  small 
and  distant  island,  he  saw  plainly ;  —  saw  it  as  the 
historian  Robertson  saw  it,  and  wished  to  put  the 
evil  day  far  off;  —  as  the  father  of  political  econo 
my  saw  it,  and  felt  that  both  mother  and  daughter 
would  gain  by  it.  But  he  felt  that  the  hour  was 
not  yet  come,  and  that  the  truest-hearted  Ameri 
can  might  still  be  both  loyal  to  England  and  faith 
ful  to  the  best  interests  of  America. 

Therefore  the  Union  that  he  asked  for  was  a 
Union  in  honorable  subjection  to  the  crown,  leav 
ing  the  royal  prerogative  untouched,  while  it  put 
the  rights  of  the  Colonies  beyond  the  reach  of  fur 
ther  aggression,  —  a  Union  which,  leaving  to  Eng 
land  an  indefinite  enjoyment  of  her  supremacy, 
should  accustom  the  Colonies  to  concerted  action 
and  collective  growth,  and  thus  slowly  prepare  the 
way  for  the  inevitable  hourof  separation. 

But  the  Provincial  Assemblies,  to  whom,  after 
its  acceptance  by  the  Congress,  it  was  referred  for 
approval,  condemned  it  as  having  "  too  much  of 


72  LECTURE  III. 

the  prerogative  in  it"  ;  while  it  was  condemned  in 
England  as  having  "  too  much  of  the  democratic." 
And  therefore,  thought  franklin,  when  he  came 
to  look  back  upon  it  from  a  distance  of  thirty  years, 
"  it  was  not  far  from  right." 

The  immediate  object  failed ;  union  was  not 
reached ;  but  men  from  different  Provinces,  men 
who  had  never  met  before,  had  passed  whole  days 
together  talking  over  their  common  interests  and 
common  desires ;  saying,  perhaps,  little  about 
rights,  for  they  were  not  yet  prepared  to  say  all 
that  they  felt  about  wrongs,  but  drawing  confi 
dence  from  the  communication  of  hopes,  and 
strength  from  the  interchange  of  opinions.  Un 
ion  thenceforward  became  an  avowed  aspiration,  a 
definite  subject  of  thought,  and,  as  a  fact,  nearer 
by  half  a  century  than  it  was  before  the  Congress 
of  Albany  met. 

The  next  Congress  was  that  of  1765  ;  still  with 
Massachusetts  for  suggester,  and  New  York  —  not 
merely  the  Province  this  time,  but  the  city  itself — 
for  place  of  meeting.  Other  actors  were  now  on  the 
stage,  with  other  questions  before  them  ;  other  ene 
mies  at  the  door,  to  be  met  on  the  threshold  and 
alone.  The  Massachusetts  House  of  Representa 
tives,  deliberating  in  their  June  session  upon  the 
impending  Stamp  Act,  resolved  to  ask  counsel  and 
aid  of  their  sister  Colonies ;  and  in  their  name, 
their  Speaker,  Samuel  White,  addressed  a  circular 
letter  to  the  several  assemblies,  inviting  them  "  to 


CONGRESS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.       73 

appoint  committees  to  meet  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  on  the  first  Tuesday  in  October  next,  to 
consult  together  on  the  present  circumstances  of 
the  Colonies,  and  the  difficulties  to  which  they  are 
and  must  be  reduced  by  the  operation  of  the  acts 
of  Parliament  for  levying  duties  on  the  Colonies, 
and  to  consider  of  a  general  and  united,  dutiful, 
loyal,  and  humble  representation  of  their  condition 
to  his  Majesty  and  the  Parliament,  and  to  implore 
relief."  Eight  Colonies  answered  the  call.  In 
Virginia  and  North  Carolina  the  Assemblies  were 
not  in  session,  and  delegates  could  not  be  appoint 
ed  without  their  authorization.  Georgia  gave  in 
her  adherence  through  the  Speaker  of  her  Assem 
bly,  but  was  prevented  by  her  Governor  from  send 
ing  delegates.  In  New  Hampshire  there  was  a 
strong  liberal  party,  but  not  yet  a  strong  enough 
one  to  hazard  so  decisive  a  step. 

On  Monday  the  7th  of  October,  the  delegates 
met,  —  twenty-seven  men  from  nine  Colonies,  the 
chosen  representatives  of  the  representatives  of  the 
people,  brought  together  by  an  imperious  neces 
sity,  with  no  recognized  place  in  the  constitution , 
.and  no  authority  but  such  as  their  prudence  and 
their  wisdom  might  give  them.  Their  object  was 
definite,  their  purpose  clearly  set  forth  in  the  cir 
cular  letter  of  the  Massachusetts  Assembly :  they 
came  to  consult  with  each  other  about  their  com 
mon  dangers,  and  to  implore  relief  of  their  com 
mon  sovereign. 

4 


74  LECTURE  III. 

If  we  would  form  a  just  estimate  of  the  impor 
tance  of  this  Congress,  we  must  go  back  to  1765 ; 
we  must  rub  out  all  the  railroads  from  our  maps ; 
we  must  imagine  sloops  instead  of  steamboats  on 
Narragansett  Bay,  and  Long  Island  Sound,  and 
the  broad  bosom  of  the  Hudson ;  we  must  see 
them  lying  at  anchor  close  under  the  shore,  wait 
ing  for  the  tide  to  turn  before  they  venture  to  face 
the  terrors  of  Hell-Gate  or  the  perils  of  the  High 
lands  ;  we  must  look  on  that  Jersey  shore,  which 
six  ferry-boats  an  hour  have  made  a  part  of  New 
York  city,  as  separated  from  it  by  a  body  of  deep 
and  rapid  water,  which  turned  woman's  cheek  pale 
and  often  made  stout  men  hesitate ;  we  must  see  a 
weekly  mail  slowly  creeping  along  roads,  which, 
none  too  good  even  in  summer,  in  winter  were 
often  impassable ;  we  must  remember  that  men 
had  not  yet  got  over  wondering  that  electricity 
and  lightning  were  the  same  thing,  —  that  even  the 
wooden  telegraph  was  not  yet  invented,  —  and  that 
people,  in  great  emergencies,  talked  from  a  dis 
tance  by  beacon  fires,  and  sent  expresses  which 
made  folks  stare  when,  by  killing  a  horse  or  two, 
they  succeeded  in  conveying  in  twenty-four  hours 
intelligence  that  we  can  send  along  the  wires  in 
half  a  minute. 

We  must  recall  all  this,  if  we  would  understand 
how  those  twenty-seven  men  felt  when  they  found 
themselves  in  the  streets  of  the  New  York  of  those 
days,  a  busy,  bustling  town,  lying  comfortably  be- 


CONGRESS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.        75 

low  the  Park,  with  Wall  Street  for  the  seat  of 
fashion,  and  no  crowd  to  prevent  strange  faces 
from  becoming  immediate  objects  of  attention. 
Then  James  Otis  first  took  John  Dickinson  by  the 
hand ;  the  fiery  denunciator  of  the  writs  of  assist 
ance  grasping  close  and  binding  himself  by  such 
firm  links  to  the  polished  reasoner  of  the  Fann 
er's  Letters,  that  forty  years  later,  long,  long 
after  that  spirit  which  shone  so  brightly  in  the 
opening  scenes  of  the  Revolution  had  passed, 
through  madness,  to  the  grave,  the  gentler-souled 
Pennsylvania!!  still  loved  to  dwell  on  these  days  as 
a  pleasing  recollection,  and  "  soothe  his  mind " 
on  the  brink  of  his  own  grave  by  bearing  "  pure 
testimony "  to  the  worth  of  his  departed  friend. 
Then  Lynch  and  Gadsden  and  John  Rutledge 
of  South  Carolina  first  sat  on  the  same  bench 
with  Thomas  McKean  and  Cesar  Rodney  of 
the  counties  that  were  to  become  Delaware,  and 
Philip  Livingston  of  New  York,  and  Dyer  of  Con 
necticut,  to  compare  feelings  and  wishes,  as,  ten 
years  later,  when  the  horizon,  now  so  dark,  was  al 
ready  glowing  with  the  swift  approach  of  day,  they 
were  to  meet  and  compare  them  again.  If  the 
Congress  of  '65  had  done  nothing  more  than  bring 
such  men  together,  it  would  still  have  rendered  in 
estimable  service  to  the  common  cause.  But  it 
did  far  more. 

They  met  to  petition  for  relief,  and  they  did  pe 
tition  ;  but  in  language  so  firm,  with  such  a  strong 


70  LECTURE  III. 

sense  of  their  rights,  such  a  perfect  understanding 
of  their  position,  such  a  clear  perception  of  their 
claim  to  be  heard,  for  England's  sake  as  well  as 
their  own,  that  their  petition  became  a  manifesto. 

They  reminded  the  King  that  they  had  grown 
up  under  governments  of  their  own,  governments 
framed  in  the  spirit  of  the  English  constitution ; 
that  nurtured  by  this  spirit,  and  freely  spending 
their  blood  and  treasure,  they  had  added  vast 
domains  to  the  British  empire ;  that  they  held 
their  connection  with  Great  Britain  to  be  their 
greatest  happiness  ;  but  that  liberty  and  justice 
were  the  best  means  of  preserving  that  connection, 
and  that  the  public  faith  was  pledged  for  the  pres 
ervation  of  their  rights.  Seldom  have  such  mo 
mentous  truths  been  compressed  within  so  narrow 
a  compass  as  the  paragraph  in  which  they  remon 
strate  against  the  Stamp  Act  and  Admiralty  Act, 
contrasting,  with  a  skill  the  ablest  rhetorician  might 
have  envied,  the  advantages  which  England  might 
draw  from  her  Colonies  properly  governed,  with 
the  loss  she  would  incur  by  governing  them  as 
Parliament  had  undertaken  to  govern  them  ;  and 
characterizing  the  assumption  by  the  House  of 
Commons  "  of  the  right  to  dispose  of  the  property 
of  their  fellow-citizens  in  America  without  their 
consent,"  in  a  few  grave  words  whose  very  calm 
ness  gives  them  all  the  bitterness  of  satire,  and 
which  furnished  Chatham  with  the  substance  of 
one  of  his  most  striking  bursts  of  eloquence.  Sim- 


CONGRESS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.       77 

pie,  earnest,  and  almost  pathetic  in  the  close,  they 
appeal  to  the  King's  paternal  love  and  benevolent 
desires  for  the  happiness  of  all  his  people,  and 
invoke  his  interposition  for  their  relief.  That 
George  the  Third  should  have  read  this  petition 
unmoved  shows  how  partially  they  had  judged  the 
royal  heart,  and  how  imperfectly  he  had  read  the 
heart  of  the  people. 

The  substance  of  the  memorial  to  the  House  of 
Lords  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  petition  to  the 
King ;  the  language  equally  sober  and  simple,  but 
the  tone  somewhat  more  elevated,  as  became  the 
subjects  of  a  constitutional  monarchy  in  addressing 
their  fellow-subjects.  In  the  petition  to  the  Com 
mons  they  enter  more  fully  into  the  various  bear 
ings  of  the  question,  and  with  a  passage  or  two 
which,  with  a  very  little  emphasis  on  prominent 
words,  would  sound  wonderfully  like  deliberate 
irony.  Both  in  the  petition  and  the  memorial  they 
ask  to  be  heard  by  counsel. 

This  much  for  King  and  Parliament.  For  the 
people,  telling  the  English  people  what  they  must 
be  prepared  to  grant  and  the  American  people 
what  they  must  be  prepared  to  assert  and  defend, 
they  sent  forth  a  declaration  of  rights  and  griev 
ances  in  thirteen  clauses,  claiming  the  right  of 
taxing  themselves,  either  personally  or  by  repre 
sentatives  of  their  own  choosing,  the  right  of  trial 
by  jury,  and  the  right  of  petition.  Each  clause 
forms  part  of  a  continuous  chain  :  each  leads  to  the 


78  LECTURE  III. 

other  as  its  logical  conclusion  ;  there  is  not  a  clause 
too  much,  not  a  word  too  much.  Never  had  state 
papers  spoken  a  language  more  decent,  more  direct, 
more  firm,  —  freer  from  conventional  forms,  profes 
sional  subtleties,  and  rhetorical  embellishment. 

And  having  done  this,  the  Congress  dissolved. 
The  members  returned  to  their  homes  with  minds 
and  hearts  strengthened  by  common  deliberations 
and  common  labor ;  with  a  better  knowledge  than 
they  had  ever  had  before  of  the  wishes  and  feel 
ings  of  their  fellow-Colonists,  for  it  was  the  result 
of  personal  intercourse  ;  and  a  firmer  resolution  to 
stand  by  each  other  in  the  impending  contest,  for 
they  had  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  together,  and 
pledged  themselves  to  abide  the  issue. 

And  now  comes  the  Congress  of  1774,  the  first 
Continental  Congress,  not  merely  to  tell  England 
wherein  America  felt  herself  wronged,  but  to  tell 
America  what  it  behooved  her  to  do  in  order  tu 
obtain  redress  for  her  wrongs.  So  strong  a  hold 
had  the  idea  of  Congress  and  Union  taken  of  the 
general  mind,  that  the  call  came  almost  simultane 
ously  from  different  Provinces ;  Virginia,  Pennsyl 
vania,  New  York,  Connecticut,  Rhode  Island,  Mas 
sachusetts,  taking  up  the  subject  within  a  few  days 
of  each  other,  and  acting  with  a  unanimity  which, 
if  statesmen  had  been  at  the  head  of  affairs  in 
England,  would  have  been  accepted  as  proof  that 
forbearance  was  fast  yielding  to  indignation.  Rhode 
Island  went  even  a  step  beyond  her  sisters,  assert- 


CONGRESS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.       79 

ing  the  necessity  of  a  firm  and  inviolable  Union 
of  all  the  Colonies  in  counsels  and  measures  for 
the  preservation  of  their  rights  and  liberties,  and 
proposing  annual  meetings  of  Congress  as  a  means 
of  enforcing  it.  Nor  was  the  idea  of  a  Congress 
confined  to  Americans  at  home,  living  and  acting 
under  the  immediate  influence  of  the  feelings  and 
passions  of  the  hour.  Americans  abroad  saw  the 
necessity  of  it,  and  already,  as  early  as  the  2d  of 
April,  Arthur  Lee  had  urged  it  in  a  letter  from 
London  to  his  brother  in  Virginia. 

Thus,  under  auspicious  influences,  and  at  a  mo 
ment  that  called  for  such  a  measure  of  prudence, 
forecast,  firmness,  and  self-control  as  has  rarely  been 
granted  to  mortals,  did  these  great  men  come  to 
gether. 

Of  their  deliberations  and  individual  opinions, 
we  unfortunately  know  little.  They  deliberated 
with  closed  doors,  and,  passing  over  processes, 
published  only  results.  There  was  no  gallery  of 
watchful  reporters  there,  to  catch  every  burning 
word  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  Henry,  or  Adams, 
or  Lee;  to  tell  how  cunningly  Joseph  Galloway 
strove  to  mould  them  to  his  will ;  how  restless  John 
Adams  grew  under  the  sober  reasonings  of  John 
Dickinson ;  how  George  Washington  sat,  thought 
ful,  grave,  calmly  biding  his  time,  prepared  for 
remonstrance,  for  resistance,  for  everything  but  the 
splendor  of  his  own  immortality.  We  know  that 
there  were  many  doubts,  many  hesitations,  many 


80  LECTURE  III. 

warm  discussions ;  but  we  know  also  that  the 
spirit  of  an  exalted  patriotism  prevailed  over  them 
all,  and  that  when  at  last  their  voice  was  heard 
it  came  forth  as  the  utterance  of  a  calm,  deep- 
rooted,  and  unanimous  conviction. 

It  was  Monday  morning  on  the  5th  of  Septem 
ber  that  they  first  met  in  Carpenter's  Hall,  Phil 
adelphia;  forty-four  at  the  opening,  soon  to  be 
fifty-two  when  all  the  delegates  were  come  in. 
Like  the  Congress  of  1765,  they  were  still  a  body 
unknown  to  the  constitution,  and  depending  solely 
upon  the  wisdom  of  their  acts  for  the  confirmation 
of  them.  Part  of  them  had  been  appointed  by  their 
Provincial  Assemblies,  part  by  County  Commit 
tees,  part  by  Committees  of  Correspondence; — a 
diversity  of  origin  characteristic  of  the  times  —  for 
the  royal  Governors  and  the  Provincial  Assemblies 
were  necessarily  at  variance  upon  these  grave  ques 
tions —  and  illustrative  also  of  the  readiness  with 
which  the  people  applied  the  forms  of  government 
to  measures  which  government  refused  to  sanction. 

Familiar  with  legislation,  they  proceeded  at  once 
to  organize ;  complimenting,  on  the  motion  of 
Lynch  of  South  Carolina,  the  first  official  appear 
ance  of  the  powerful  Colony  of  Virginia  among 
her  sisters,  by  making  Peyton  Randolph  their 
President ;  complimenting  Pennsylvania,  by  choos 
ing  for  Secretary  Charles  Thompson,  formerly  a 
schoolmaster,  now  a  rich  man  by  marriage,  — 
thin,  wrinkled,  with  deep-set,  sparkling  eyes,  and 


CONGRESS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.       81 

straight,  gray  hair,  not  long  enough  to  reach  his 
ears,  —  "  the  life  of  the  cause  of  liberty,"  Phila- 
delphians  said,  and  whose  name,  in  his  own  firm, 
clear  hand,  looks  so  familiar,  even  at  this  distance 
of  almost  a  hundred  years. 

Thus  far  all  ran  smoothly,  although  there  had 
been  a  slight  hesitation  about  the  Secretary  on  the 
part  of  two  New-Yorkers,  Jay  and  Duane.  But 
now  came  the  fiery  ordeal,  for,  as  they  proceeded 
to  make  their  rules,  the  question,  "  How  shall  we 
vote  ?"  met  them  full  in  the  face.  There  was  no 
avoiding  it,  no  putting  it  off;  for  it  contained  the 
fundamental  principle  of  their  Union,  of  all  unions 
of  unequal  elements,  —  how  to  preserve  the  rights 
of  the  smaller  members  without  encroaching  upon 
those  of  the  larger  members. 

"  Government  is  dissolved,"  said  Patrick  Henry, 
in  those  tones  which  had  often  thrilled  the  Vir 
ginia  Burgesses.  "Where  are  your  landmarks, 
your  boundaries  of  Colonies  ?  We  are  in  a  state 
of  nature,  sir.  The  distinctions  between  Virgini 
ans,  Pennsylvanians,  New-Yorkers,  and  New-Eng- 
landers  are  no  more.  I  am  not  a  Virginian,  but 
an  American !  "  And  renouncing  his  first  intention 
of  insisting  upon  a  vote  by  numbers,  he  declared 
himself  ready  to  submit,  if  overruled,  and  give  all 
the  satisfaction  in  his  power.  Others,  too,  had 
then*  opinions,  — the  result  of  long  and  earnest 
meditation  ;  but  they  knew  how  to  distinguish  be 
tween  the  surrender  of  a  principle  and  the  post- 

4*  F 


82  LECTURE  III. 

ponement  of  a  discussion  ;  and,  making  an  entry 
on  their  journal  that  the  rule  was  not  to  be  drawn 
into  precedent,  they  agreed  to  vote  by  Colonies, 
and  give  each  Colony  an  equal  vote. 

Then  Gushing  of  Massachusetts  moved  that 
Congress  should  be  opened  by  prayer ;  and  when 
Jay  and  Rutledge  opposed  it,  because  "  they  were 
too  much  divided  in  religious  sentiment  to  unite 

o 

in  one  form  of  prayer,"  the  Congregation alist 
Samuel  Adams  arose,  and,  saying  that  piety,  virtue, 
and  love  of  country  were  his  only  tests,  moved  that 
the  Episcopalian  Duchd  should  be  asked  to  read 
prayers  the  next  morning  according  to  the  Episco 
pal  form.  And  when  morning  came,  Duche,  ar 
rayed  in  his  canonical  robes,  was  introduced  to  the 
assembly ;  and  read  the  solemn  morning  service 
of  the  Church,  while  his  clerk  gave  the  responses, 
and  Presbyterians,  Anabaptists,  Congregationalists, 
and  Quakers,  some  kneeling,  and  some  standing 
up,  but  all  mingled  and  confounded  together,  lis 
tened  with  decent  reverence.  When  he  came  to 
the  psalm  of  the  day,  the  thirty-fifth  psalm,  David's 
heart-cry  to  God  for  deliverance  from  his  enemies, 
a  sudden  thrill  went  through  the  assembly  ;  for  they 
called  to  mind  the  tidings  which  had  reached  them 
the  day  before,  that  the  British  troops  were  firing 
upon  Boston,  and  felt  as  if  God's  own  finger  had 
pointed  out  to  them  the  appropriate  language  of 
supplication.  Then,  too,  a  sudden  inspiration 
warmed  the  timid  heart  of  the  clergyman,  and, 


CONGRESS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.        83 

closing  his  prayer-book,  lie  broke  forth  into  an  ex 
temporaneous  prayer  for  Congress,  for  the  Province 
of  Massachusetts  Bay,  and  especially  for  the  poor 
devoted  town  of  Boston ;  and  in  words  so  earnest, 
in  such  thrilling  and  pathetic  tones,  that  every 
heart  was  stirred,  and  every  eye  was  wet. 

The  appointment  of  the  committees  followed 
next ;  one  composed  of  two  delegates  from  each 
Province,  to  draft  a  Bill  •  of  Rights  ;  and  another 
of  one  delegate  from  each  Province,  to  report  upon 
the  statutes  that  affected  the  trade  and  manufac 
tures  of  the  Colonies.  A  great  concession  had 
already  been  made  by  the  larger  Colonies,  and 
now,  as  they  met  with  equal  voices  upon  the  com 
mon  ground  which  they  had  made  for  themselves, 
all  knew  that  in  the  question  before  them  all  other 
questions  were  involved.  For  the  enumeration  of 
their  rights  was  the  proclamation  of  their  wrongs ; 
and  great  was  the  need  of  weighing  well  their 
words,  and  making  their  foundations  sure.  Hard 
est  of  all  was  the  part  of  the  delegates  from  Mas 
sachusetts.  The  sympathy  with  Boston  was  uni 
versal.  Their  journey  to  Philadelphia  had  seemed 
more  like  a  royal  progress  than  the  journey  of  the 
representatives  of  an  oppressed  people  going  to  ask 
for  sympathy  and  succor.  Committees  from  the 
principal  towns  met  them  on  their  way,  and  their 
entrance  was  hailed  by  the  ringing  of  bells  and 
firing  of  cannon.  Th^y  were  invited  to  lodge  in 
private  houses,  and  feasted  with  the  fat  of  the  land. 


84:  LECTURE  III. 

But  as  they  drew  nigh  to  their  journey's  end,  they 
were  admonished  that  doubts  of  their  intentions 
had  gone  before  them,  that  they  were  accused  of 
aiming  directly  at  independence,  and  that  their 
words  would  be  weighed  in  a  nicer  balance  than 
the  words  of  those  who  had  suffered  less.  Then 
John  Adams  reined  in  his  fiery  spirit,  and  Samuel 
Adams,  constraining  his  nature,  was  content  for  a 
while  to  follow  where  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
lead. 

But  fortunately  there  were  other  men  there  pre 
pared  to  go  resolutely  forward,  and  without  at 
tempting  to  deceive  themselv/es  as  to  whither  the 
path  might  lead  them.  "  Our  rights  are  built  on 
a  fourfold  foundation,"  said  Richard  Henry  Lee  ; 
"  on  nature,  on  the  British  Constitution,  on  char 
ters,  and  on  immemorial  usage.  The  Navigation 
Act  is  a  capital  violation  of  them  ";  and  he  could 
not  see  why  they  should  not  lay  their  rights  on 
the  broadest  bottom,  — the  law  of  nature.  "  There 
is  no  allegiance  without  protection !  "  said  John 
Jay,  "  and  emigrants  have  a  right  to  erect  what 
government  they  please.  I  have  always  withheld 
my  assent  from  the  position  that  every  man  dis 
covering  land  does  it  for  the  state  to  which  he  be 
longs." 

"  The  Colonies,"  said  Roger  Sherman,  "  are 
not  bound  to  the  King  or  crown  by  the  act  of  set 
tlement,  but  by  their  consent  to  it.  There  is  no 
other  legislature  over  them  but  their  respective  as- 


CONGRESS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       85 

semblies.  They  adopt  the  common  law,  not  as  the 
common  law,  but  as  the  highest  reason." 

But  Rutledge  thought  that  the  British  constitu 
tion  gave  them  a  sufficient  foundation ;  and  Duane, 
that  the  law  of  nature  would  be  a  feeble  support. 
Joseph  Galloway  talked  learnedly  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  of  Saxons  and  Normans,  and  tried  to  look 
bold  as  he  said :  "I  have  ever  thought  we  might 
reduce  our  rights  to  one,  an  exemption  from  all 
laws  made  by  British  Parliament  since  the  emigra 
tion  of  our  ancestors.  It  follows,  therefore,  that 
all  the  acts  made  since  are  violations  of  our 
rights."  Adding,  —  and  how  his  cheeks  must 
have  burned  as  he  said  it,  —  "I  am  well  aware 
that  my  remarks  tend  to  independency." 

"  A  most  ingenious,  interesting  debate,"  wrote 
John  Adams  in  his  diary  on  the  evening  of  the 
first  day.  But  he  soon  grew  anxious  for  a  conclu 
sion  ;  which,  however,  was  not  reached  till  after 
many  discussions,  and  in  the  form  of  a  partial  com 
promise.  Still,  the  great  end  was  attained.  The 
men  of  twelve  Colonies — Georgia  was  not  rep 
resented  in  this  Congress  —  had  talked  together 
freely  about  their  obligations  and  their  rights  ;  had 
brought  their  duties  as  subjects  to  the  standard  of 
their  rights  as  men ;  had  counted,  one  by  one.,  the 
links  in  the  chain  of  their  allegiance,  and  found 
that  it  did  not  reach  far  enough  to  make  them 
slaves. 

There  was  one  grave  moment  in  the  general  de- 


86  LECTURE  III. 

bate, —  the  moment  when  Joseph  Galloway  intro 
duced  his  insidious  plan  fora  union  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  Colonies ;  a  plan  so  specious  and 
so  ingeniously  defended,  that  even  the  clear-headed 
Jay  was  "led  to  adopt  it,"  and  that  upon  the  final 
trial  it  failed  by  only  one  vote,  —  but  a  plan  which, 
like  all  temporizing  with  principle,  would  have 
merely  put  off  upon  the  children  the  work  that 
Heaven  had  appointed  for  the  fathers  ;  and  what 
such  puttings-off  lead  to,  we,  not  as  the  children  of 
those  brave  men  of  1776,  but  as  the  heirs  of  the 
first  generation  of  compromisers,  have  seen  and 
felt,  —  have  seen  with  eyes  dimmed  by  tears  that 
will  not  be  stayed,  have  felt  with  hearts  that  can 
not  be  comforted.  God  forbid  that  we  should  en 
tail  the  curse  upon  future  generations! 

By  the  26th  of  October  their  work  was  completed. 
They  had  prepared  a  Bill  of  Rights,  and  an  enu 
meration  of  the  acts  whereby  those  rights  had  been 
violated.  They  had  prepared  an  address  to  the 
King,  an  address  to  the  people  of  Great  Britain,  a 
memorial  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  British  Prov 
inces,  an  address  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  Prov 
ince  of  Quebec,  and  an  association  for  non-impor 
tation. 

The  Bill  of  Rights,  covering  the  same  ground 
with  the  Bill  of  Rights  of  the  first  Congress,  starts 
from  a  higher  point,  the  immutable  laws  of  nature, 
and  shows,  by  its  fuller  development  of  the  princi 
ples  common  to  both,  that  the  seed  sown  in  1765 


CONGRESS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       87 

had  not  fallen  on  stony  ground.  Nothing  could 
be  firmer,  more  manly,  or  more  explicit,  than  the 
language  of  the  addresses  and  memorials ;  dutiful, 
respectful,  solemnly  earnest,  to  the  King ;  clear, 
firm,  direct,  with  a  mixture  of  grave  exhortation 
and  sober  remonstrance,  to  their  fellow-subjects. 
"  When  your  Lordships  look  at  the  papers  trans 
mitted  to  us  from  America,"  said  Lord  Chatham  in 
one  of  those  attempts  to  awaken  his  colleagues  to 
a  sense  of  their  injustice,  which  have  made  his 
name  so  dear  to  Americans,  "  when  you  consider 
their  decency,  firmness,  and  wisdom,  you  cannot 
but  respect  the  cause  and  wish  to  make  it  your 
own."  The  agreement  of  non-importation,  non- 
exportation,  and  non-consumption  was  the  same  in 
principle  with  that  which  had  been  tried  so  suc 
cessfully  against  the  Stamp  Act ;  although  it  had 
proved  ineffectual  against  the  later  encroachments 
of  England.  Like  the  question  of  voting,  it  was  a 
severe  test  of  the  sincerity  of  the  desire  for  union. 
But  many  looked  to  it  with  full  confidence ;  and 
with  an  exception  in  favor  of  rice,  to  propitiate 
South  Carolina,  it  received  the  official  signature  of 
every  member.  "  Negotiation,  suspension  of  com 
merce,  and  war,  are  the  only  three  things,"  said 
John  Jay.  "War  is,  by  general  consent,  to  be 
waived  at  present.  I  am  for  negotiation  and  sus 
pension  of  commerce." 

Then,  having  also  taken  care  to  recommend  tlu1 
calling  of  a  second  Congress,  the  First  Continental 


88  LECTURE  III. 

Congress  dissolved,  and  John  Dickinson  could  con 
gratulate  Josiah  Quincy  on  the  hearty  union  of  all 
America,  from  Nova  Scotia  to  Georgia,  in  the 
common  cause.  And  when  the  report  of  their  pro 
ceedings  reached  London,  Josiah  Quincy  wrote  to 
his  friends  :  "  Permit  me  to  congratulate  my  coun 
trymen  upon  the  integrity  and  wisdom  with  which 
the  Congress  have  conducted.  Their  policy, 
spirit,  and  union  have  confounded  their  foes  and 
inspired  their  friends." 

To  crown  the  triumph  of  patriotism,  it  was 
known  that  large  sums  had  been  sent  to  New  York 
to  bribe  the  delegates ;  that  this  infamous  attempt 
at  corruption  was  openly  avowed  and  vindicated ; 
and  that  the  partisans  of  the  ministers  had  boasted 
loudly  of  their  success. 

But  how  did  calm  and  thoughtful  men  feel  as 
they  endeavored  to  look  into  the  future  ?  how  did 
John  Dickinson  feel,  that  sober-minded,  sincere, 
but  not  sanguine  man,  who  had  done  so  much  to 
wards  diffusing  correct  opinions  upon  the  question 
of  taxation  by  Parliament  ?  "I  wish  for  peace 
ardently,"  said  he,  "  but  must  say,  delightful  as  it 
is,  it  will  come  more  grateful  by  being  unexpect 
ed.  The  Colonists  have  now  taken  such  ground? 
that  Great  Britain  must  relax,  or  inevitably  involve 
herself  in  a  civil  war."  Some  hoped  that  she 
would  relax.  "  Conviction,"  wrote  James  Lovel, 
"  must  be  the  consequence  of  a  bare  admission  of 

light." 


CONGRESS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.        89 

It  was  soon  seen  that  light  was  not  to  reach  the 
eyes  of  the  King,  nor  to  be  permitted  to  reach  the 
eyes  of  the  people ;  and  therefore,  on  the  10th  of 
May,  1775,  a  new  Congress  convened.  Already 
the  battle  of  Lexington  had  been  fought ;  already 
an  indignant  yeomanry  had  gathered  to  the  siege  of 
the  British  army  in  Boston  ;  already  defences  were 
rising,  men  were  enrolling  throughout  the  land. 
Twice  had  the  representatives  of  the  people  come 
together  to  remonstrate  and  -petition,  to  appeal  to 
the  reason  of  their  fellow-subjects,  and  invoke  the 
protection  of  their  King.  They  now  met  for  ac 
tion  ;  to  appeal,  if  needs  be,  to  the  sword,  and 
invoke  the  protection  of  their  God.  Independence 
lay  in  their  path,  and,  thick  set  as  that  path  was 
with  obstacles  and  dangers,  they  were  not  the  men 
to  falter  or  turn  aside  when  the  only  alternative 
was  slavery. 

This  time  they  assembled,  not  in  Carpenter's 
Hall,  the  gathering-place  of  a  private  association, 
but,  as  beseemed  the  acknowledged  representa 
tives  of  a  great  people,  in  the  State-House,  in  that 
fine  old  hall  which  Philadelphia,  with  a  wise  grat 
itude,  has  carefully  preserved  from  desecration  ;  to 
which  the  chairs  and  tables  which  they  used  have 
been  brought  back  with  pious  care,  and  on  whose 
walls,  thick-clustering  with  holy  associations,  hang 
the  portraits  of  the  founders  of  our  Union,  —  of  the 
men  who,  by  the  great  things  which  they  did  there, 
and  the  wise  things  that  they  said  there,  have 


90  LECTURE  111. 

made  It  a  temple  on  whose  altars  the  profoundest 
statesman  may  humbly  lay  down  his  laurels,  and 
from  whose  oracles  faltering  patriots  may  learn  to 
put  their  trust  in  God. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  situation  more  be 
set  with  difficulties,  a  path  more  absolutely  hedged 
in  with  thorns  and  briers,  than  that  of  the  Congress 
which  met  in  Philadelphia  on  the  10th  of  May, 
1775,  and  proclaimed  the  birth  of  a  new  nation  on 
the  4th  of  July,  1776.  Builders  like  to  begin  on 
clear  ground,  where  they  can  see  their  way  from 
the  first,  lay  their  foundations  surely,  and  put  ev 
ery  stone  in  its  place,  from  the  corner-stone  to 
the  key-stone  of  the  arch.  But  our  builders  found 
themselves  in  the  midst  of  ruins ;  and  it  was  only 
by  a  careful  clearing  away  of  the  rubbish  that  they 
could  reach  those  solid  foundations  which  still  lay 
unimpaired  under  the  dust  and  fragments  of  a  tran 
sient  superstructure.  Out  of  the  ruins  of  royal 
and  parliamentary  authority  they  had  to  frame  a 
supreme  legislature  ;  in  place  of  that  dependence 
upon  England  which  had  so  long  bound  them  to 
the  fortunes  of  a  single  country,  they  had  alliances 
to  form  wherever  their  interests  required  it.  The 
Act  of  Navigation  was  to  be  thrown  aside,  and  their 
ports  opened  to  all  comers.  To  protect  the  com 
merce  which  they  hoped  soon  to  see  growing  rap 
idly  up  under  auspicious  influences,  they  had  to 
build,  arm,  and  man  a  navy,  and  provide  for  its 
support ;  and  to  protect  themselves,  to  protect  their 


CONGRESS  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.       91 

cities  and  their  farms,  from  the  wanton  violence  of 
a  ruthless  soldiery,  they  had  to  organize  an  army, 
and  place  at  its  head  a  man  who  could  guide  and 
control  its  energy  without  abusing  their  confi 
dence.  And  all  this  had  to  be  done  by  general 
consent,  in  spite  of  open  and  covert  opposition, 
with  a  powerful  enemy  all  ready  to  crush  them, 
and  an  insidious  enemy  constantly  on  the  watch 
to  turn  against  them  every  error  of  haste,  or  im 
providence,  or  oversight. 

When  they  first  met,  fresh  from  the  people,  and 
with  vivid  recollections  of  what  their  own  eyes  had 
seen  in  their  own  homes,  there  was  an  appearance 
of  harmony  among  them  which  promised  firm, 
prompt,  and  united  action.  But  every  act  on  their 
part  was  a  step  towards  independence.  Which 
ever  way  they  turned,  independence  still  seemed 
to  meet  them  at  the  end  of  the  path.  Every  road 
led  equally  to  it.  It  formed  a  part  of  every  ques 
tion,  entered  directly  or  indirectly,  either  as  a  prin 
ciple  or  as  an  illustration,  into  every  discussion, 
warming  some  minds  with  visions  of  wealth,  and 
power,  and  glory,  and  striking  terror  into  others 
by  images  of  confiscation  and  the  scaffold. 

Some  would  have  begun  by  assuming  all  the 
powers  of  government,  and  proceeded  at  once  to 
open  their  ports,  organize  an  army,  build  a  navy, 
prepare  themselves  to  meet  the  enemy  at  every 
point,  and  thus  discuss  the  question  of  reconcilia 
tion  with  arms  in  their  hands.  Others  were  will- 


92  LECTURE  III. 

ing  to  arm  in  order  to  repel  aggression,  but  they 
would  have  carefully  avoided  every  act  and  every 
expression  which  wore  the  appearance  of  an  inten 
tion  to  change  self-defence  into  attack.  Many 
still  continued  to  flatter  themselves  with  the  same 
hopes  by  which  they  had  already  been  so  often  de 
luded.  They  hoped  that  the  King  would  relent. 
They  hoped  that  the  English  people  would  rise 
against  an  oppressive  ministry.  They  hoped  that 
there  might  still  be  strength  enough  in  the  ties  of 
blood,  intelligence  enough  in  the  instinct  of  in 
terest,  to  bring  them  all  once  more  together  as  the 
children  of  common  ancestors,  and  members  of  one 
great  and  glorious  association. 

These  hopes  were  continually  fanned  by  the  par 
tisans  of  England,  —  ever  ready  with  pretexts  and 
excuses,  skilled  in  all  the  dangerous  arts  of  retard 
ment,  knowing  well  when  to  promise  and  when 
to  threaten.  Of  especial  use  to  them  were  the 
tidings  of  the  appointment  of  English  commission 
ers,  who  were  speedily  to  come  with  an  olive- 
branch  in  their  hands,  heal  all  dissensions,  and 
reinstate  the  colonies  in  all  their  rights. 

And  this  gave  to  the  councils  of  Congress  an 
appearance  of  fluctuation  which  was  attended  with 
serious  inconveniences.  "  One  day,"  wrote  Sam 
uel  Ward,  one  of  the  calmest  and  wisest  among 
them,  "  measures  for  carrying  on  the  war  were 
adopted;  the  next,  nothing  must  be  done  which 
would  widen  the  unhappy  breach  between  Great 


CONGRESS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.       93 

Britain  and  the  Colonies."  Some  were  seen  to 
turn  pale  when  John  Adams,  carried  away  by  his 
ardent  temperament  and  deep  convictions,  pro 
posed  measures  that  would  have  brought  things  to 
an  immediate  crisis. 

How  could  it  be  otherwise  with  the  question  of 
trade  before  them?  for  in  this  question  more  than 
in  any  other  were  comprehended  the  question  of 
Independence,  and  the  question  of  that  Union 
without  which  independence  could  neither  be  won 
nor  worth  the  winning.  To  throw  open  their  ports 
to  other  nations  was  to  annul  the  Act  of  Naviga 
tion,  a  step  little  short  of  a  declaration  of  inde 
pendence,  and  which  must  be  promptly  followed 
by  the  organization  of  State  governments  and  of  a 
central  government.  John  Adams  saw  this,  and 
urged  it  expressly  with  this  view.  His  opponents 
saw  it,  and  resisted  it  with  equal  persistency. 

Then,  too,  men  were  far  from  seeing  clearly  into 
the  economical  principles  involved  in  the  regula 
tion  of  trade.  The  father  of  political  economy  had 
just  put  the  manuscript  of  his  great  work  into  the 
hands  of  the  printer,  and  truths  which  he  has 
made  familiar  to  school-boys  had  not  yet  dawned 
upon  the  minds  of  statesmen. 

"  We  ought,"  said  Lee,  "  to  stop  our  own  ex 
ports,  and  invite  foreign  nations  to  come  and  export 
for  us.  The  provisions  of  America  are  needed, 
and  foreigners  must  come  for  them."  But  Wil 
ling,  a  Philadelphia  merchant,  could  not  be  for  in- 


9i  LECTURE  III. 

viting  foreigners  to  become  their  carriers.  "  Car 
riage  is  an  amazing  revenue.  Holland  and  England 
have  derived  their  maritime  power  from  it."  Liv 
ingston,  from  commercial  New  York,  was  for  doing 
away  with  the  non-exportation  agreement  entirely, 
except  in  the  articles  of  lumber  and  tobacco.  Chase 
was  sure  that  the  nation  must  soon  grow  rich  which 
exports  more  than  it  imports.  Edward  Rutledge 
of  South  Carolina  was  equally  sure  that  men  could 
be  taken  from  the  plough  and  engaged  in  man 
ufactures.  The  Swiss  Zubly,  who  represented 
Georgia,  and  who,  as  he  said,  having  been  famil 
iar  with  a  republican  government  ever  since  he 
was  six  years  old,  knew  that  it  was  little  better 
than  a  u  government  of  devils,"  was  "  for  using 
American  virtue  as  sparingly  as  possible  lest  they 
should  wear  it  out."  Livingston's  proposition  to 
except  lumber  and  tobacco  —  the  chief  staples 
of  three  important  Colonies  —  was  met  by  the 
assertion  that  it  would  lead  to  disunion.  Gads- 
den  was  for  confining  the  question  to  one  point,  — 
"Shall  we  shut  up  our  ports  and  be  all  on  a 
footing  ?  Mankind  act  by  their  feelings  ;  distinc 
tions  will  divide  us ;  one  Colony  will  be  jealous 
of  another." 

Equally  embarrassing  was  the  question  started 
by  the  proposal  to  recommend  to  the  Provincial 
governments  "  to  arrest  and  secure  every  person 
in  their  respective  Colonies  whose  going  at  large 
might,  in  their  opinion,  endanger  the  safety  of  the 
Colon  v,  or  the  liberties  of  America." 


CONGRESS  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.       95 

This  was  war  indeed.  *  Could  it  be  done  ?  Was 
the  time  for  such  a  step  yet  come  ?  Johnson  of 
Virginia  confessed  that  he  "  saw  less  and  less  pros 
pect  of  a  reconciliation  each  day ;  still  he  would 
not  render  it  impossible."  The  assistance  of 
France  and  Spain  was  mentioned.  Zubly  fired 
up :  "  Some  men  were  for  breaking  off  with  Great 
Britain ;  men  who  should  propose  to  his  constitu 
ents  to  apply  to  France  and  Spain,  would  be  torn 
in  pieces  like  De  Witt," 

Rhode  Island,  which  from  the  beginning  had 
looked  upon  prompt  action  as  the  wisest  course,  de 
liberately  threw  another  apple  of  discord  into  the 
assembly ;  nothing  less  than  a  proposition  to  build 
a  navy.  It  was  received  almost  with  derision. 
Nobody  out  of  the  little  phalanx  of  far-seeing  and 
resolute  men,  who  felt  too  sure  of  the  future  to  hes 
itate  about  the  present,  would  listen  to  it.  A  few 
were  for  taking  it  into  consideration  as  a  mark  of  re 
spect  to  an  independent  Province,  and  then  killing 
it  with  parliamentary  decency.  It  was  put  off,  by 
resolve,  from  week  to  week,  with  a  fatal  loss  of 
time  in  the  actual  condition  of  our  military  sup 
plies,  which  could  come  only  by  sea.  At  last,  a 
committee  was  appointed,  and  out  of  the  delibera 
tions  of  that  committee  grew  our  glorious  Ameri 
can  navy,  the  protector  of  our  commerce,  the  de 
fender  of  our  flag,  the  best  mediator  in  our  differ 
ences  with  foreign  powers,  the  sight  of  whose 
frowning  batteries  on  a  distant  coast  fills  the  heart 


96  LECTURE  III. 

of  the  American  traveller  with  such  emotions  of 
confidence  and  pride,  —  so  honorable,  throughout 
the  whole  course  of  its  history,  to  our  skill,  our 
enterprise,  our  daring,  to  everything  but  our 
gratitude. 

There  was  less  difficulty  in  agreeing  upon  meas 
ures  for  the  encouragement  of  manufactures,  ag 
riculture,  the  arts  and  sciences ;  and  no  serious 
difficulty,  as  far  as  the  records  show,  in  forming 
boards  for  the  administration  of  the  different  de 
partments. 

But  should  they  again  petition  the  King,  whom 
they  had  already  petitioned  in  vain  ?  Even  this 
was  conceded  to  the  timid,  to  John  Dickinson 
more  especially,  whose  fluent  pen  was  employed  in 
repeating  the  thrice-told  tale.  And  the  American 
olive-branch,  America's  last  appeal  to  the  royal 
heart,  was  intrusted  to  John  Penn,  a  grandson 
of  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania. 

Thus  slowly  and  cautiously  they  moved,  but  still 
onward.  And  before  many  months  were  passed, 
they  had  assumed  full  authority,  executive,  legisla 
tive,  and  in  some  instances  even  judicial. 

They  had.  solemnly  laid  at  England's  door  the 
guilt  of  the  first  bloodshed.  They  had  met  the 
royal  proclamation  of  the  23d  of  August,  declar 
ing  them  rebels,  and  threatening  them  with  the 
punishment  of  rebels,  by  an  indignant  denial  of 
the  accusation,  and  a  bold  resolve  to  meet  the 
punishment  by  retaliation.  They  had  formed  a 


CONGRESS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       97 

committee  for  corresponding  with  their  friends  in 
Europe,  and  sent  Silas  Deane  to  open  negotiations 
for  obtaining  supplies  of  arms  from  France,  and 
preparing  the  way  for  commercial  intercourse. 

They  had  resolved  that  no  supplies  should  be 
furnished  the  British  army  or  navy,  no  bills  of  ex 
change  negotiated  for  British  officers ;  that  no  Co 
lonial  ships  should  transport  British  troops.  They 
had  taken  the  army  before  Boston  into  the  service 
of  the  United  Colonies,  had  made  provision  for  its 
pay  and  support,  and  had  given  it  Washington  for 
commander-in-chief.  Every  day  seemed  to  make 
the  path  of  duty  clearer.  England  herself  appeared 
resolved  to  leave  them  no  pretext  for  hesitation. 
It  was  of  the  last  importance  that  Congress  should 
not  go  too  fast  for  the  people  ;  that  the  people 
should  not  weaken  the  influence  of  Congress  by 
putting  themselves  in  the  advance.  "  The  novelty 
of  the  thing  deters  some,"  wrote  Franklin  in  April, 
"  the  doubt  of  success  others,  the  vain  hope  of 
conciliation  many.  But  our  enemies  take  con 
tinually  every  proper  measure  to  remove  these 
obstacles,  and  their  endeavors  are  attended  with 
success,  since  every  day  furnishes  us  with  new 
causes  of  increasing  enmity,  and  new  reasons  for 
wishing  an  eternal  separation ;  so  that  there  is  a 
rapid  increase  of  the  formerly  small  party  who 
were  for  an  independent  government."  "My 
countrymen,"  wrote  Washington  in  the  same 
month,  and  speaking  of  Virginia,  "I  know,  from 


98  LECTURE  III. 

their  form  of  government,  and  steady  attachment 
heretofore  to  royalty,  will  come  reluctantly  into 
the  idea  of  independence  ;  but  time  and  persecu 
tion  bring  many  wonderful  things  to  pass."  John 
Adams,  as  he  tried  to  curb  his  impatience,  had 
likened  the  country  to  "  a  large  fleet  sailing  under 
convoy ;  the  fleetest  sailors  must  wait  for  the  dull 
est  and  slowest." 

At  last,  in  that  same  month  of  April,  while 
Franklin,  on  his  way  to  Canada  as  a  Congress  com 
missioner,  wrote  from  Saratoga  the  lines  I  have 
read  you,  and  Washington  his  hopes  from  Cam 
bridge,  John  Adams  was  enabled  to  write  from 
Philadelphia :  "  The  ports  are  opened  wide  enough 
at  last,  and  privateers  are  allowed  to  prey  upon 
British  trade.  This  is  not  independency,  you 
know.  What  is?  Why,  governments  in  every 
Colony,  a  confederation  among  them  all,  and  trea 
ties  with  foreign  nations  to  acknowledge  us  a  sov 
ereign,  and  all  that.  When  these  things  will  be 
done,  or  any  of  them,  time  must  discover.  Per 
haps  the  time  is  near;  perhaps  a  great  way  off." 
And  a  fortnight  afterward,  for  the  signs  were  hourly 
brightening :  "  As  to  declarations  of  independency, 
be  patient.  Read  our  privateering  laws  and  our 
commercial  laws.  What  signifies  a  word  ?  " 

At  length  he  saw  that  the  hour  was  come,  and 
on  the  6th  of  May  introduced  his  resolution  for  the 
institution  of  State  governments.  On  the  10th  it 
was  passed,  in  these  most  pregnant  words :  "  That 


CONGRESS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      90 

it  be  recommended  to  the  respective  assemblies  and 
conventions  of  the  United  Colonies,  where  no  gov 
ernment  sufficient  to  the  exigence  of  their  affairs 
hath  been  hitherto  established,  to  adopt  such  gov 
ernment  as  shall,  in  the  opinion  of  the  represent 
atives  of  the  people,  best  conduce  to  the  happiness 
of  their  constituents  in  particular  and  America  in 
general."  On  the  15th,  a  preamble  was  added, 
stating;  as  the  grounds  of  their  resolve,  their  exclu 
sion,  by  act  of  Parliament,  from  the  protection  of 
the  crown  ;  the  King's  refusal  to  answer  their  pe 
tition  ;  the  warlike  preparations  against  them,  and 
the  consequent  necessity  of  suppressing  the  exer 
cise  of  every  kind  of  authority  under  the  crown. 

"  When  I  consider  the  great  events  which  are 
passed,"  wrote  John  Adams,  two  days  afterwards, 
"  and  those  greater  which  are  rapidly  advancing, 
and  that  I  may  have  been  instrumental  in  touch 
ing  some  springs  and  turning  some  small  wheels, 
I  feel  an  awe  upon  my  mind  which  is  not  easily 
described.  Great  Britain  has  at  last  driven  Amer 
ica  to  the  last  step,  a  complete  separation  from  her  ; 
a,  total,  absolute  independence,  not  only  of  her  Par 
liament,  but  of  her  crown ;  for  such  is  the  amount 
of  the  resolve  of  the  15th.  There  is  something 

c"D 

very  unnatural  and  odious  in  a  government  a  thou 
sand  leagues  off.  A  whole  government  of  our  own 
choice,  managed  by  persons  whom  we  love,  revere, 
and  can  confide  in,  has  charms  in  it  for  which  men 
wiU  fight." 


100  LECTURE  III. 

Five  Colonies  had  already  expressly  authorized 
their  delegates  to  vote  for  independence ;  and 
while  on  that  memorable  15th  of  May,  twin  birth 
day  of  our  nation,  John  Adams  was  reporting  to 
Congress  the  comprehensive  and  energetic  pream 
ble  to  the  resolve  of  the  10th,  Virginia  was  voting 
instructions  to  her  delegates  to  unite  with  their  col 
leagues  in  the  decisive  act  of  separation. 

On  the  7th  of  June,  says  the  Journal  of  Con 
gress,  "  Certain  resolutions  respecting  indepen 
dency  being  moved  and  seconded,  Resolved,  that 
the  consideration  of  them  be  referred  till  to-morrow 
morning,  and  that  the  members  be  ordered  to  at 
tend  punctually  at  ten  o'clock,  in  order  to  take  the 
same  into  their  consideration."  On  that  morrow 
they  were  discussed  in  committee  of  the  whole, 
and  a  second  sitting  ordered  for  Monday  the  10th, 
when,  after  full  discussion,  it  was  resolved,  "  That 
the  discussion  of  the  first  resolution  be  postponed 
to  Monday,  the  first  day  of  July  next ;  and  in  the 
mean  while,  that  no  time  be  lost,  in  case  the  Con 
gress  agree  thereto,  that  a  committee  be  appointed 
to  prepare  the  declaration  to  the  effect  of  the  said 
first  resolution,  which  is  in  these  words:  That 
these  United  Colonies  are,  and  of  rio-ht  ouo-ht  to 

o  e> 

be,  free  and  independent  States ;  that  they  are  ab 
solved  from  all  allegiance  to  the  British  crown ; 
and  that  all  political  connection  between  them  and 
the  state  of  Great  Britain  is  and  ought  to  be  to 
tally  dissolved."  Congress  transacted  no  further 
business  that  day. 


CONGRESS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     101 

On  the  following  day  the  committee  was  cho 
sen  :  Jefferson,  John  Adams,  Franklin,  Sherman, 
and  Robert  R.  Livingston.  And  immediately  after 
it  was  resolved,  "  That  a  committee  be  appointed 
to  prepare  and  digest  the  form  of  a  confederation 
to  be  entered  into  between  these  Colonies  " ;  and, 
"  That  a  committee  be  appointed  to  prepare  a 
plan  of  treaties  to  be  proposed  to  foreign  powers." 

The  1st  of  July  came.  All  the  delegates  but 
those  of  New  York  had  now  received  the  instruc 
tions  of  their  constituents,  and  all  been  authorized 
to  vote  for  independence.  One  voice  was  raised 
against  it,  as  yet  premature  ;  the  persuasive  voice 
of  John  Dickinson,  always  heard  with  respect. 
One  voice  was  raised  in  its  defence,  the  vehement 
voice  of  John  Adams.  But  no  discussion  was 
needed.  At  the  request  of  South  Carolina  the 
final  vote  was  postponed  to  the  next  day;  and 
then,  on  Tuesday,  the  2d  of  July,  twelve  Colonies 
united  in  the  resolve,  "  That  these  United  Colo 
nies  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  inde 
pendent  States." 

The  Declaration  of  Independence  had  already 
been  reported  from  the  committee.  Another  day 
—  the  3d — was  partly  employed  in  discussing 
it.  And  on  the  4th,  authenticated  by  the  sig 
natures  of  John  Hancock  as  President,  and  Charles 
Thompson  as  Secretary,  it  was  sent  to  the  printer. 
On  the  2d  of  August,  fairly  engrossed  on  parch 
ment  and  made  unanimous  by  the  adhesion  of 


102  LECTURE  III. 

New  York,  it  received  the  signatures  of  all  the 
members  present  as  the  unanimous  "  Declaration  " 
of  the  thirteen  United  States  of  America. 

And  a  joyful  shout  went  up  from  all  the  land ; 
from  inland  hamlet  and  sea-side  town  ;  from  work 
shop  and  field,  where  fathers  could  henceforth 
eat  their  bread  cheerfully,  even  in  the  sweat  of 
their  brows,  —  for  they  knew  that  their  children 
would  inherit  the  fruit  of  their  labors,  and  receive 
and  transmit  unimpaired  the  precious  birthright  of 
freedom.  The  solemn  words  were  read  at  the  head 
of  the  army  drawn  out  in  full  array,  and  welcomed 
by  the  waving  of  banners  and  the  booming  of  can 
non.  They  were  read  from  the  pulpit  while  heads 
were  bowed  reverently  in  prayer,  and  hearts  glowed 
as  at  a  visible  manifestation  of  the  will  of  God. 
They  crossed  the  ocean,  waking  strange  fears  in 
palaces,  whispering  soothing  hopes  in  hovols,  tell 
ing  the  poor  and  oppressed  and  down-tfodckn  of 
every  land  that  an  asylum  had  been  opened  for 
them  in  fertile  regions  beyond  the  ocean,  where 
industry  was  unfettered  and  thought  was  uncon 
trolled. 

And  still,  as  we  look  back  to  that  auspicious  day, 
we  bless  God  that  he  imparted  to  our  fathers  so 
large  a  measure  of  his  own  wisdom ;  that  he 
breathed  into  their  councils  such  a  spirit  of  calm, 
resolute,  and  hopeful  zeal ;  that  he  put  into  their 
mouths  words  of  such  comprehensive  truth  that 
through  all  time,  as  each  successive  generation 


CONGRESS  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     103 

draws  nearer  to  the  law  of  universal  brotherhood, 
it  will  but  develop  more  fully  the  principle  by 
which  these  United  States  first  took  their  place 
among  the  nations,  — "  that  all  men  are  equally 
entitled  to  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happi- 


LECTURE  IV. 


CONGRESS  AND  THE  STATE  GOVERNMENTS 
OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

WE  have  seen  that  in  the  history  of  our  coun 
try  Congress  and  Union  have  always  gone 
hand  in  hand  together.     We  have  seen  that  the 
Congress  of  1690  was  convened  in  order  to  give  a 
common  direction  to  the  energies  of  the  Northern 

O 

Colonies  in  an  attack  upon  Canada ;  that  the  Al 
bany  Congress  of  1754  came  together  with  the 
wish  for  a  more  lasting  union  upon  its  lips ;  that 
the  New  York  Congress  of  1765  built  its  hopes 
of  redress  upon  the  common  sense  of  wrong  as  ex 
pressed  in  a  common  remonstrance  and  appeal ; 
that  the  Congress  of  1774  assumed  openly  the 
title  of  Continental  Congress,  and  spoke  as  with 
authority  in  the  name  of  all  the  Colonies.  We 
have  seen  this  deliberative  body  coming  directly 
from  the  people  and  with  no  recognized  place  in 
the  Constitution,  acting  in  all  things  in  harmony 
with  public  sentiment,  and  assuming,  in  1775,  ex 
ecutive,  legislative,  and  sometimes  even  judicial 
authority,  organizing  a  government  and  declar- 


THE   STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  105 

ing  independence.  This  evening  I  shall  return 
briefly  to  the  Congress,  and  endeavor  to  complete 
our  view  of  the  elements  of  the  civil  government 
of  the  Revolution  by  a  sketch  of  the  characteris 
tic  features  of  the  State  governments. 

Congress  had  now  accomplished  one  part  of  its 
task,  and  with  a  calmness,  judgment,  and  wisdom 
that  confirmed  men  in  their  persuasion  of  its  capa 
city  to  deal  with  these  delicate  questions  and  bear 
these  grave  responsibilities.  To  the  world,  too, 
there  was  an  appearance  of  unanimity  in  its  coun 
sels  which  added  materially  to  its  authority;  for 
it  still  deliberated  with  closed  doors,  and,  publish 
ing  its  acts,  passed  silently  over  its  discussions.  It 
was  known,  however,  even  then,  that  there  were 
differences  of  opinion  among  its  members,  though 
few  out  of  Congress  knew  their  nature  or  their 
extent. 

Shall  we,  at  this  distant  day,  seek  to  remove  the 
veil  and  lay  bare  the  dissensions  and  personal  jeal 
ousies  which  disturbed,  although  they  did  not 
destroy  its  harmony  of  resolve,  —  retarded,  al 
though  they  did  not  prevent  its  harmony  of  ac 
tion  ?  It  seems  an  invidious  and  ungrateful  task  to 
tell  how  John  Dickinson  gave  John  Adams  the  cut 
direct  in  the  streets  of  Philadelphia;  how,  one  day, 
as  several  members  were  walking  together  in  the 
lobby,  Jay  took  Richard  Henry  Lee  by  the  button, 
and,  drawing  him  towards  Jefferson,  made  him 
declare  he  had  never  denied  that  Jay  wrote  the 

5* 


106  LECTURE  IV. 

address  to  the  people  of  England ;  how  Samuel 
Adams  —  for  though  chronologically  it  comes  two 
years  later,  yet  it  belongs  in  spirit  full  as  much  to 
this  as  to  any  other  period  —  how  then  Samuel 
Adams  turned  short  upon  poor  Duponceau,  who 
had  addressed  him  as  John  Adams,  and  said,  "  I 
would  have  you  to  know,  sir,  that  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  Samuel  Adams  and  John  Ad 
ams."  Such  things  are  sad,  very  sad ;  and  it  is 
far  pleasanter  to  think  of  the  author  of  the  "  Farm 
er's  Letters  "  as  grasping  cordially  the  hand  of  the 
author  of  "  Novanglus "  wherever  he  met  him, 
and  the  eloquent  Lee  as  rejoicing  with  a  brother's 
joy  in  the  eloquence  of  Jay. 

But  these  things  are  history;  stern,  impartial, 
truth-loving  history ;  and  it  is  a  wilful  rejecting  of 
the  most  instructive  of  her  lessons  arbitrarily  to 
blot  the  page  which  reminds  us  that  even  the 
greatest  and  wisest  of  men  are  not  altogether  ex 
empt  from  the  weaknesses  of  humanity.  I  would 
not  dwell  upon  such  things,  for  they  sadden  and 
mortify  me.  But  when  I  look  upon  the  men  of 
my  own  day,  and  hear  and  read  what  is  said  of 
their  errors  and  weaknesses,  I  find  it  a  gentle  per 
suasive  to  chanty  to  remember  that  weakness  and 
greatness  have  so  often  dwelt  side  by  side  in  the 
noblest  intellects  and  truest  hearts. 

Fortunately  there  was  no  Horace  Walpole  in 
our  Congress  to  distort  the  picture  by  bestowing 
all  his  finest  touches  and  richest  tints  upon  the 


THE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  107 

worst  parts  of  it.  The  little  that  has  been  pre 
served  in  letters  and  diaries,  the  little  that  has 
crept  out  through  avenues  which,  however  closely 
guarded,  could  never  be  so  completely  closed  but 
that  some  secrets  would  find  their  way  through 
them,  are  sufficient  for  the  truth  of  history ;  and  I 
gladly  turn  from  them  to  the  contemplation  of  that 
pure  wisdom  and  exalted  patriotism,  in  the  splen 
dor  of  whose  rays  these  spots  on  the  bright  orbs 
of  our  political  system  are  wellnigh  lost. 

You  have  already  seen  that  on  the  llth  of 
June,  immediately  after  appointing  the  committee 
for  drafting  a  "  Declaration  of  Independence," 
Congress  resolved  "  that  a  committee  be  appointed 
to  prepare  and  digest  the  form  of  a  Confederation 
to  be  entered  into  between  these  Colonies,"  and 
another  to  "  prepare  a  plan  of  treaties  to  be  proposed 
to  foreign  powers."  The  first  of  these  resolves 
gave  us  the  Confederation ;  the  second  I  shall  re 
turn  to  in  a  future  lecture.* 

As  we  look  back  upon  the  Confederation,  we  are 
apt  to  dwell  too  exclusively  upon  its  errors  and  de 
ficiencies  ;  to  forget  that  we  see  it  in  the  light  of 
history,  —  in  the  light  of  the  Constitution ;  that 
some  of  its  errors  were  such  as  time  only  could 
reveal,  some  of  its  deficiencies  were  such  as  noth 
ing  but  a  stern  experience  could  induce  us  to  sup- 

*  The  first  movement  towards  a  confederation  had  been  made 
in  July,  1775,  by  Franklin,  ever  foremost  in  the  just  apprecia 
tion  of  circumstarces. 


108  LECTURE  IV. 

ply.  For  to  supply  them  required  sacrifices,  and, 
in  some  instances,  the  sacrifice  of  habits  and  preju 
dices  which  the  popular  mind  clings  to  with  sin 
gular  tenacity.  A  correct  estimate  of  it  would 
require  an  examination,  which  we  have  not  time 
for  now,  of  the  ideas  which  the  publicists  and 
statesmen  of  that  day  entertained  concerning  the 
nature  and  office  of  a  confederation.  A  glance, 
however,  I  must  give,  though  it  will  necessarily  be 
a  hasty  one. 

Alliances  for  particular  purposes  have  been  com 
mon  from  an  early  period  of  modern  history.  Du 
Mont  and  Rousset  and  De  Martens  have  filled  vol 
umes  with  the  record  of  minute  stipulations  made 
only  to  be  broken,  and  perpetual  friendships  that 
hardly  outlived  the  year  of  their  formation.  You 
have  all  read  to  satiety  of  family  compacts,  and 
quadruple  alliances,  and  holy  alliances.  Of  con 
federations,  too,  there  have  been  notable  examples 
in  ancient  and  modern  times ;  the  Amphictyonic 
Council  and  AchaBan  League  in  Greece,  familiar 
to  the  men  of  our  Revolution  through  Rollin  and 
Millot  and  Mably  ;  in  modern  Europe  the  Ger 
manic  system,  the  United  Netherlands,  the  Hanse- 
atic  League,  something  of  confederacy  in  Poland^ 
in  Switzerland  much  more  ;  all  of  them,  when  our 
Confederation  was  formed,  still  objects  of  living  in 
terest,  full  of  suggestions,  especially  full  of  warn 
ings.  But  we  must  not  forget  that  there  were 
fnndunental  distinctions  between  Americans  — 


THE   STATE    GOVERNMENTS.  109 

even  the  Americans  of  that  day  —  and  the  people 
of  these  confederacies,  especially  of  the  ancient 
confederacies. 

In  ancient  society  the  citizen  was  absorbed  in  the 
state.  The  legislators  of  antiquity  treated  the  indi 
vidual  as  an  element  in  that  collective  dignity,  pow 
er,  and  grandeur  which  was  called  Sparta,  or  Ath 
ens,  or  Rome.  It  was  not  from  any  consciousness 
of  the  dignity  of  his  individual  nature,  of  the  digni 
ty  of  humanity,  that  the  citizen  of  the  victorious 
Republic  repelled  insult  and  injury.  But  to  inflict 
stripes  upon  him  was  to  insult  the  majestic  city; 
to  put  fetters  on  his  limbs  was  to  bind  limbs  that 
ought  always  to  be  free  for  the  service  of  the  state. 

With  Christianity  came  individual  rights,  as  the 
necessary  consequence  of  individual  responsibili 
ties;  the  right  of  deciding  and  acting  for  self  in 
civil  society,  as  a  necessary  consequence  of  the  ob 
ligation  to  answer  for  self  at  the  bar  of  God.  In 
the  Italian  Republics  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  two 
ideas  stood  side  by  side ;  the  citizen  looked  upon 
himself  as  individually  merged  in  the  state ;  but 
at  brief  and  regular  intervals  that  state  had  to  be 
made  over  again,  and  he  had  an  equal  voice,  and  an 
equal  hand,  in  doing  it.  And  thus  was  estab 
lished  the  dependence  of  the  state  upon  its  indi 
vidual  members  ;  the  responsibility  of  every  citizen 
that  held  office  to  the  citizens  by  whose  votes  and 
for  whose  protection  he  held  it.  The  regular  re 
turn  of  authority  to  the  source  whence  it  came, 


110  LECTURE  IV. 

the  idea  of  office  as  a  duty  to  the  state  and  a 
trust  from  the  individual,  was  the  contribution  of 
those  brilliant  republics  to  the  cause  of  political 
truth. 

You  can  have  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  this 
idea,  for  it  is  the  idea  familiar  to  you  all  as  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people.  Years  were  still  to  pass, 
and  a  new  world  to  be  opened  to  it,  before  it  ob 
tained  solemn  acceptance  as  the  corner-stone  of  all 
legitimate  authority.  But  that  acceptance  it  found 
at  last  in  the  municipal  institutions  of  New  Eng 
land.  To  us  it  is  so  familiar  an  axiom  that  all  our 
political  reasonings  start  from  it,  all  our  political 
theories  bring  us  back  to  it  as  their  test.  In  our 
colonial  history,  though  ever  active  below  the  sur 
face,  it  did  not  appear  so  constantly  above  the  sur 
face.  But  when  the  Colonies  threw  off  the  author 
ity  of  the  King  in  the  name  of  the  people,  and 
asked  themselves  and  one  another  what  and  whom 
they  should  put  in  his  stead,  they  were  met  from 
the  beginning  by  the  fact  that  the  sovereign  people 
was  already  represented  in  thirteen  distinct  indi 
vidualities  ;  that  each  State  was  already  an  empire 
in  itself.  Thus  —  and  it  was  a  natural  error — it 
was  not  the  people  that  they  bound  together,  but 
the  States  ;  framing  a  confederacy  of  collective  in 
dividuals,  with  whose  elements  their  common  rep 
resentative  had  no  means  of  contact;  to  whose 
opinions  it  might  appeal,  but  over  whose  action  it 
hod  no  control.  And  thus,  instead  of  commanding, 


rHE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  HI 

it  could  only  recommend ;  instead  of  guiding,  it 
could  only  advise.  It  might  make  the  wisest 
laws,  the  most  advantageous  treaties,  the  most  ju 
dicious  appropriations  of  the  public  resources ;  but 
it  could  neither  enforce  a  law,  nor  guard  a  treaty 
from  infraction,  nor  draw  out  the  resources  of  the 
country,  without  the  direct  and  voluntary  concur 
rence  of  each  individual  State.  "  It  could  declare 
everything,  could  do  nothing." 

It  was  not  till  the  15th  of  November,  1777,  that 
the  Articles  of  Confederation  were  accepted  by 
Congress,  and  not  till  the  1st  of  March,  1781,  that, 
after  many  alterations  and  amendments,  they  re 
ceived  the  adhesion  of  Maryland,  the  last  of  all 
the  States  to  hesitate  upon  the  brink  of  Union. 
During  this  period  Congress  continued  to  exercise 
the  supreme  power  as  it  had  done  in  the  beginning, 
governing  the  army,  the  navy,  the  finances,  the 
foreign  relations,  by  committees  under  the  name  of 
Boards  ;  and  relying  for  confirmation  upon  the  con 
fidence  of  the  people.  From  a  deliberative  it  had 
become  an  executive  assembly ;  and  when  the  first 
impulse  of  popular  enthusiasm  was  passed,  it  was 
exposed  to  all  the  searching  criticisms  with  which 
a  free  people  visits  the  depositaries  of  its  power 
and  rewards  the  executors  of  its  will.  Without 
altogether  losing  its  hold  upon  the  popular  mind,  it 
lost  much  of  that  veneration  which  had  been  the 
chief  source  of  its  original  strength.  King  Cono;. 
became  a  common  expression  as  early  as  1777,  if 


112  LECTURE  IV. 

not  as  a  term  of  reproach,  still  not  altogether  as  a 
mark  of  affection.  Men  felt  the  presence  of  the 
enemy ;  they  saw  the  distress  of  the  army ;  but 
they  heard  of  Congress  as  living  luxuriously  in 
comfortable  quarters,  while  their  soldiers  and  offi 
cers  were  freezing  and  starving  on  a  bleak  hillside. 
It  was  accused,  and  not  always  unjustly,  of  pro 
crastination  and  negligence  ;  of  unnecessary  delays 
of  decision  which  led  to  fatal  delays  of  action. 
The  Commander-in-chief  would  prepare  his  plan 
of  campaign;  the  Quartermaster-General  would 
prepare  his  estimates ;  but  Congress  would  put  off 
from  day  to  day  and  from  week  to  -week  the  con 
current  action,  without  which  neither  Washington 
nor  Greene  could  take  a  step.  It  was  accused,  not 
only  of  withholding  from  Washington  that  full 
confidence  which  was  essential  to  the  efficient  ex 
ercise  of  his  authority,  but  even  of  opening  the 
door  for  the  misrepresentations  of  his  enemies,  and 
of  taking,  through  several  of  its  members,  an  ac 
tive  part  in  the  disgraceful  cabal  for  setting  up  a 
Gates  as  his  rival,  a  half-formed  Pompey  against 
an  impossible  Csesar ;  the  first  great  blot  in  our 
united  annals,  and  which  nothing  but  the  more 
open  treason  of  Arnold  could  have  deprived  of  its 
historical  prominence  as  a  combination  of  baseness, 
cowardice,  and  treachery.  And  however  great 
the  embarrassments  and  difficulties  of  its  situation 
may  have  been,  history  will  not  acquit  it  of  many 
grave  and  some  wilful  errors. 


THE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  113 

But  many  of  the  men  who  had  breathed  into  its 
counsels  the  wise  caution  and  sober  courage  of  1775 
and  1776  were  no  longer  there  to  foster  that  rare 
spirit  by  their  advice  and  example.  As  the  war 
advanced,  the  army  became  the  chief  object  of  at 
tention,  upon  whose  movements  men  waited  with 
anxious  expectation,  for  all  knew  that  there  was 
110  longer  any  alternative  between  absolute  victory 
or  absolute  submission.  And  that  army  had  found 
a  leader  whose  character  from  the  first  inspired 
confidence  as  well  as  admiration,  reverence  as  well 
as  love.  Already  known  as  the  hero  of  Brad- 
dock's  disastrous  campaign,  as  the  man  who,  when 
British  courage  had  faltered  and  British  skill  was 
at  fault,  had  saved  the  remnants  of  a  noble  army 
by  prodigies  of  American  courage  and  skill ;  known, 
too,  as  a  man  who  had  sacrificed  the  enjoyments 
of  a  cherished  home,  and  staked  a  princely  fortune 
upon  the  issue ;  he  seemed  to  fill  the  popular  im 
agination  by  a  happy  mixture  of  the  marvellous 
and  the  common  in  his  history,  of  the  grave  and 
the  impetuous  in  his  character.  At  the  side  of 
such  a  man  no  body  of  men  could  hold  an  equal 
place,  for  man's  inherent  love  of  unity  leads  him 
to  concentrate  his  strongest  affections  upon  single 
objects;  and  when  that  object  is  a  worthy  one, 
when  judgment  approves  and  goes  hand  in  hand 
with  feeling,  those  affections  become  too  strong  to 
bear  the  presence  of  a  rival.  Even  the  Congress 
of  1776  would  have  lost  somewhat  of  its  halo  by 


114  LECTURE  IV. 

the  side  of  the  Washington  of  Trenton  and  Ger- 
mantown  and  Monmouth,  —  the  Washington  who 
had  braved  the  ice  of  the  Delaware,  and  lived  in  a 
log  hut  amid  the  snows  of  Valley  Forge.  Still 
less  could  it  keep  its  hold  upon  the  popular  mind 
when  reduced  in  number  and  shifting  about  from 
place  to  place ;  from  Philadelphia  to  Baltimore,  to 
get  out  of  the  reach  of  the  Tories ;  from  Philadel 
phia  to  Lancaster,  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  Brit 
ish  army ;  then  farther  on,  to  York  ;  and  at  last 
back  again  to  Philadelphia  when  Washington  had 
opened  the  way  ;  next  to  Princeton,  threatened  by 
mutineers  ;  and  finally  to  Annapolis,  where  Wash 
ington  came  once  more  before  it  to  resign  his 
commission,  and  perform  in  its  presence  what 
he  fondly  regarded  as  the  last  act  of  his  public 
life.  Franklin,  with  the  weight  of  seventy  years 
upon  him,  had  again  crossed  the  ocean  in  1776  to 
plead  for  his  country  at  the  court  of  France,  as  he 
had  long  pleaded  for  her  at  the  court  of  her  own 
sovereign.  John  Adams  had  followed  him  in 
1778;  Jefferson  had  turned  all  his  energies  to 
wards  a  reform  in  the  civil  legislation  of  his  native 
Province.  Others  of  the  original  members  were 
also  gone ;  some  called  away  to  the  more  attrac 
tive  field  of  State  government ;  some,  by  private 
interests  ;  and  some,  too,  to  make  way  for  new 
men.  The  attendance  was  often  imperfect,  some 
times  barely  sufficient  for  the  transaction  of  busi 
ness  ;  and  its  discussions  not  being  reported,  it  was 


THE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  115 

shut  out  from  that  path  to  public  applause  which 
skill  in  debate  and  popujar  eloquence  might  still 
have  kept  open  for  it.  Yet  there  were  great  and 
good  men  in  it  to  the  last;  —  still  a  Morris,  a 
Sullivan,  a  Schuyler,  to  impart  energy  to  its 
counsels  ;  a  Jay  and  a  Laurens,  to  sustain  the 
dignity  of  the  Presidential  chair.  And  although 
it  failed  where  large  bodies  must  always  fail,  in 
executive  promptness,  decision,  and  skill,  it  is 
none  the  less  entitled  to  the  grateful  remembrance 
of  every  true  American,  as  the  guardian  and  pre 
server  of  civil  government  through  the  perilous 
convulsions  of  a  long  and  bloody  war ;  receiving 
its  authority  from  the  hands  of  the  people  in  the 
midst  of  a  revolution  which  threatened  all  the  ex 
isting  forms  of  society  with  subversion,  and  ren 
dering  it  back  to  the  people  untainted  when  the 
revolution  was  completed  and  new  or  newly  mod 
ified  forms  had  everywhere  taken  the  place  of  the 
old.  Let  those  who  would  learn  wisdom  by  exam 
ple  ponder  well  the  history  of  the  Congress  of  the 
American  Revolution ;  its  merits  and  its  defects  ; 
its  frailties  and  its  virtues ;  the  much  that  it  ac 
complished  of  what  it  attempted,  the  little  that  it 
left  undone  of  what  large  assemblies  can  do. 

From  the  first  establishment  of  the  American 
Colonies  the  Colonial  governments  were  divided 
into  Provincial  governments,  directly  dependent 
upon  the  King ;  Proprietary  governments,  imme 
diately  dependent  upon  the  proprietary  and  medi- 


116  LECTURE  IV. 

ately  upon  the  King  as  the  lord  paramount ;  and 
Charter  governments,  in  which  certain  definite 
rights  and  privileges  were  secured  to  the  Colony 
by  letters  patent  from  the  King.  Thus  in  every 
Colony  the  King  was  equally  the  original  source  of 
authority  ;  for  every  Colony  was  equally  founded 
upon  the  principle,  that  the  first  discoverer  of  a 
country  not  occupied  by  a  civilized  or  a  Christian 
people  discovered  for  the  sovereign  to  whom  he 
owed  allegiance ;  and  thus  the  sovereign  became 
lord  of  the  soil,  with  full  power  to  divide  and  grant 
it  at  will,  and  attach  such  conditions  as  he  saw  fit 
to  the  grant. 

But,  fortunately  for  our  founders,  this  enormous 
power  was  met  by  another  principle  peculiar  to 
English  law,  and  no  less  a  clearly  settled  principle. 
Every  Englishman,  carrying  his  allegiance  with 
him,  carried  also  his  rights.  The  moment  that  he 
took  possession  of  a  new  tract  in  the  name  of  the 
crown,  English  law  took  possession  of  it  in  the 
name  of  the  Constitution.  Thus,  wherever  Eng 
lishmen  went,  Magna  Charta  went  with  them. 
Every  right  which  had  been  defined  in  England 
before  they  left  its  shores,  was  defined  for  them 
and  their  children.  Every  law  which  had  been 
made  for  their  government  in  their  old  home  re 
tained,  as  far  as  the  difference  of  circumstances 
would  permit,  full  control  over  them  in  their  new 
home.  No  longer  part  and  parcel  of  the  realm  of 
Great  Britain,  they  were  still,  as  before,  subjects 


VHE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  117 

of  the  crown,  bound  to  such  duties  as  it  could  con 
stitutionally  impose,  and  possessed  of  all  the  rights 
and  immunities  which  the  subject  could  constitu 
tionally  claim. 

And  fortunately,  too,  these  rights  and  immuni 
ties  were  of  the  largest  kind  ;  so  large,  indeed,  that 
their  natural  development,  that  development  which 
fundamental  principles,  whether  good  or  bad,  al 
ways  receive  at  the  hand  of  time,  led  by  a  logical 
necessity  to  that  full  measure  of  liberty  which  we 
ourselves  enjoy.  And  at  the  same  time  they  were 
so  reasonable,  so  just,  they  entered  so  directly  into 
the  domestic  life  of  the  people  while  they  acted 
with  such  a  regular  and  constant  action  upon  its 
public  life,  that  they  were  looked  upon  as  equally 
essential  to  the  peace  of  the  one  and  the  prosperity 
of  the  other. 

The  first  of  these  rights  was  the  right  to  partici 
pate  directly  in  the  government ;  to  have  a  voice 
in  the  making  of  their  laws,  in  the  spending  of  their 
money  ;  and,  as  a  guaranty  that  it  would  be  spent 
properly,  the  right  of  saying  when,  how,  and  how 
much  of  it  they  would  give. 

No  less  important  nor  less  watchfully  guarded 
was  the  right  of  trial  by  jury ;  an  institution  to 
which  Englishmen  and  the  descendants  of  Eng 
lishmen  cling  so  tenaciously,  that  they  are  hardly 
able  to  conceive  of  justice  in  any  other  form.  And 
side  by  side  with  these  the  right  of  petition. 

Men  who  carried  such  rights  with  them  would 


118  LECTURE  IV. 

necessarily  establish  a  free  government  wherever 
they  went ;  a  government  which,  whatever  name 
they  might  see  fit  to  give  it,  whatever  external 
form  it  might  bear,  would  still  be  essentially  free. 
The  absorption  of  the  individual  by  the  state  was 
irreconcilable  with  such  guaranties  against  the  en 
croachments  of  the  sovereign.  The  vigorous  and 
healthy  life  of  the  state  was  secured  by  the  con 
stant  infusion  of  vigor  and  health  from  every 
hearth-stone,  from  every  workshop,  from  every 
field.  And  among  our  fathers  the  jealous  watch 
fulness  of  the  individual  was  kept  alive  by  the  exi 
gencies  of  their  position  ;  rapid  growth  constantly 
calling  for  new  provisions,  and  starting  questions 
which  carried  them  daily  back  to  fundamental 
principles. 

One  form,  however,  had  acquired  from  early  as 
sociations  a  hold  upon  their  affections.  They  had 
always  been  familiar  with  the  idea  of  a  division  of 
powers.  They  had  long  been  accustomed  to  see  a 
King,  and  a  House  of  Lords,  and  a  House  of  Com 
mons,  acting  with  harmonious  interdependence  for 
the  common  weal.  They  would  have  found  it 
difficult  to  conceive  of  good  laws  as  emanating  from 
an  executive  power,  or  a  good  executive  power  as 
residing  in  a  legislative  body.  Still  less  could 
they  have  reconciled  their  conceptions  of  the  due 
administration  of  justice  with  the  union  of  legisla 
tive  and  judicial  authority.  And  as  practical  free 
dom  consisted  for  them  in  the  preservation  of  their 


THE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  119 

civil  as  well  as  their  political  rights,  so  the  forms 
of  freedom  consisted  in  the  radical  division  of  the 
three  great  functions  of  government. 

Therefore  in  all  the  Colonies,  in  the  Provincial 
and  Proprietary  as  well  as  in  those  that  were  gov 
erned  by  charter,  the  outlines  of  the  English  con 
stitution  were  more  or  less  accurately  preserved. 
There  was  a  Governor  to  represent  the  King,  a 
Council  to  represent  the  House  of  Lords,  an  elec 
tive  Assembly  to  represent  the  House  of  Commons. 
Local  peculiarities  introduced  modifications.  A 
royal  Governor  in  Massachusetts  was  not  in  every 
respect  upon  the  same  footing  as  a  royal  Governor 
in  Virginia.  The  Governor  of  Rhode  Island, 
called  from  the  plough,  the  workshop,  or  the  count 
ing-room  to  the  executive  chair,  and  going  back 
to  his  plough,  or  workshop,  or  counting-room  again, 
whenever  his  fellow-citizens  thought  that  another 
man  could  serve  them  better,  was  a  very  different 
person  from  the  needy  courtiers  who  were  often 
sent  from  the  antechambers  of  royalty  to  fill  their 
pockets  in  rich  New  York.  But  still  in  all  mate 
rial  things  the  fundamental  distinctions  of  the  Eng 
lish  constitution  were  preserved;  the  executive, 
the  legislative,  and  the  judicial  functions  were 
carefully  kept  apart. 

Hence,  when  the  Revolution  came  to  snap  the 
bands  which  had  so  long  bound  the  Colonies  to  the 
mother  country,  it  found  a  people  familiar  with  the 
functions  of  government,  and  strongly  attached  to 


120  LECTURE  IV. 

certain  forms  as  the  best  security  for  their  liber 
ties.  The  Provincial  and  Proprietary  systems,  as 
far  as  they  depended  for  sanction  upon  the  King, 
fell  of  themselves  when  the  King  declared  the  Col 
onies  out  of  his  protection,  and  they  accepted  the 
position ;  but  this  was  merely  a  falling  of  the  scaf 
folding, —  the  foundations  of  the  great  edifice,  which 
a  century  and  a  half  had  been  consolidating,  re 
mained  unshaken.  The  power  returned  to  whence 
it  came,  —  the  people  ;  and  the  people  were  pre 
pared  to  build  up  a  stronger  and  more  harmonious 
edifice  upon  the  original  foundations.  In  the  Char 
ter  governments  the  change  was  even  less ;  for  the 
charters  were  virtually  written  constitutions,  and 
so  much  in  harmony  with  public  opinion  that  it 
was  only  some  twenty  years  ago  that  Rhode  Isl 
and  dropped  from  her  statute-book  the  charter  of 
Charles  the  Second. 

There  was,  indeed,  a  critical  moment  in  the  pas 
sage  from  the  old  forms  to  the  new.  "  O  Mr. 
Adams  !  "  said  one  of  the  eager  statesman's  for 
mer  clients,  a  notorious  horse-jockey,  "  what  great 
things  have  you  and  your  colleagues  done  for  us ! 
We  can  never  be  grateful  enough  to  you.  There 
are  no  courts  of  justice  now  in  this  Province,  and 
I  hope  there  never  will  be  another."  John  Ad 
ams  looked  grave.  It  was  an  interpretation  of  his 
•iconoclastic  labors  which  had  not  occurred  to  him. 
Other  men  looked  grave,  and  felt  anxious  too. 
They  saw  that  the  hour  of  pulling  down  was  past, 


THE   STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  121 

and  that,  if  they  would  build  up  again,  they  must 
begin  quickly. 

Massachusetts  was  the  first  to  ask  Congress  what 
she  should  put  in  the  place  of  the  charter  which 
the  King  and  his  ministers  had  tried  to  force  upon 
her.  It  was  an  inconvenient  question,  for  Congress 
was  still  talking  about  loyalty  and  filial  love  ;  and 
to  advise  Massachusetts  to  set  up  a  government 
of  her  own  would  be  neither  loyal  nor  filial.  But 
it  was  a  question  that  must  be  met.  To  hesitate 
would  be  like  casting  doubts  on  its  own  author 
ity.  To  refuse  an  answer  would  be  exposing  an 
important  Colony  to  the  perils  of  anarchy,  when 
circumstances  imperiously  required  the  concentrat 
ed  energy  of  organized  government.  She  was 
advised,  therefore,  to  go  back  as  nearly  as  possible 
to  her  old  charter. 

In  October  of  the  same  year  (1775),  New 
Hampshire  came  to  Congress  with  the  same  ques 
tion.  Meanwhile,  events  had  been  quickening 
their  motion ;  the  whole  fleet,  dullest  and  swiftest 
alike,  were  within  signal  distance,  moving  fairly  on 
with  a  wind  that  promised  to  blow,  like  that  pro 
pitious  wind  which  Apollo  sent  the  Greeks,  "  full 
in  the  middle  of  their  sails."  And  accordingly 
Congress  spoke  out  more  directly  than  ever  before, 
advising  them,  by  its  resolve  of  the  3d  of  Novem 
ber,  "  to  call  a  full  and  free  representation  of  the 
people,  and  that  the  representatives,  if  they  think 
it  necessary,  establish  such  a  form  of  government 


!22  LECTURE  IV. 

as,  in  their  judgment,  will  best  produce  the  happi 
ness  of  the  people,  and  most  effectually  secure 
peace  and  good  order  in  the  Province  during  the 
continuance  of  the  present  dispute  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  Colonies." 

In  January  the  resolve  was  acted  upon,  and  a 
new  constitution  hastily  formed.  South  Carolina, 
Virginia,  and  New  Jersey  also  gave  themselves, 
through  their  conventions,  new  constitutions  before 
independence  was  declared ;  all  of  them  bearing 
evident  marks  of  haste.  North  Carolina  was  busy 
early  in  1776  with  the  same  questions.  All  felt 
alike  the  necessity  of  a  regular,  effective,  and  le 
gitimate  government. 

In  some  of  these  constitutions  grave  defects 
soon  became  apparent.  Massachusetts  tired  early 
of  her  resuscitated  charter,  and,  calling  a  conven 
tion,  formed  a  new  constitution  in  1780.  South 
Carolina  revised  hers  in  1778.  New  York,  chiefly 
through  the  counsels  of  John  Jay,  was  far  more 
successful  in  her  first  effort.  Maryland,  also,  went 
carefully  and  deliberately  to  the  work.  And  thus, 
with  more  or  less  haste,  with  more  or  less  skill,  but 
all  equally  earnest  and  equally  bent  upon  estab 
lishing  all  their  rights  upon  a  solid  foundation,  the 
thirteen  dependent  Provinces  prepared  themselves 
to  enter  upon  a  new  career  of  progress  and  devel 
opment  as  independent  States. 

And  now,  in  bringing  these  constitutions  to 
gether  for  a  collective  view,  the  first  circumstance 


THE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  123 

which  strikes  us  is  their  explicit  recognition  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people.  As  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  derived  all  its  authority  from  the 
consent  of  the  people,  expressed  by  their  accept 
ance  of  the  new  position  in  which  it  placed  them, 
so  the  new  constitutions  derived  all  their  authority 
from  the  consent  of  the  people  as  expressed  by  a 
direct  vote  of  ratification.  They  accepted  them, 
they  chose  the  representatives  who  framed  them, 
they  named  the  officers  who  carried  them  into  ex 
ecution.  In  all  cases  the  decision  lay  with  them. 
The  arguments  were  addressed  to  their  under 
standings  ;  the  appeal  was  made  to  their  feelings. 
Familiarity  with  these  things  has  blunted  our  sense 
of  their  magnitude.  History  in  all  her  annals  has 
no  brighter  page,  no  record  so  full  of  promise  for  ev 
ery  lover  of  humanity,  as  that  which  tells  us  how, 
without  discord  or  anarchy,  these  thirteen  Prov 
inces  passed  through  a  revolution,  and  laid  anew 
the  foundations  of  their  political  existence  on  the 
broad  basis  of  the  rights,  the  interest,  and  the  hap 
piness  of  all. 

Another  common  feature  is  the  preservation  in 
all  but  two  —  Pennsylvania  and  Georgia  —  of  a 
legislature  composed  of  two  Houses,  and  invested 
with  extensive  authority,  —  an  authority  reaching 
in  some  even  to  the  power  of  revising  the  consti 
tution.  Thus  far  we  see  the  influence  of  English 
ideas  and  early  associations.  But  nowhere  did  the 
body  which  took  the  place  of  the  Colonial  Coun- 


124  LECTURE  IV. 

cils  come  nearer  to  the  House  of  Lords  than  by  a 
longer  term  of  office  in  some  instances ;  and  in 
some  instances,  also,  a  different  mode  of  election. 
They  were  still  the  representatives  of  the  people, 
invested  for  a  stated  term  with  specific  powers, 
which,  when  that  term  expired,  returned  again 
to  the  people.  The  idea  of  hereditary  rights  to 
make  laws,  like  that  of  hereditary  rights  to  enforce 
them,  took  no  root  in  American  soil. 

Another  common  feature  was  the  jealousy  with 
which  they  all  looked  upon  the  third  element  in 
their  government,  —  the  Governor,  or,  as  he  was 
called  in  some  Provinces,  the  President.  If  we 
are  to  take  this  as  a  result  of  experience,  it  is  a 
bitter  satire  upon  the  Colonial  Governors  whom 
they  received  from  the  King ;  if  as  a  speculative 
conclusion,  it  shows  more  circumspection  than  con 
fidence,  a  keen  perception  of  possible  dangers  rath 
er  than  a  just  sense  of  the  degree  of  power  which 
is  essential  to  the  usefulness  as  well  as  to  the  dig 
nity  of  a  chief  magistrate.  Everywhere  his  hands 
were  tied  by  a  Council,  and  sometimes  tied  so  tight 
that  it  seems  wonderful  any  one  should  have  cared 
for  so  powerless  a  symbol  of  power. 

In  their  views  of  religious  toleration,  also,  there 
were  some  general  features  indicative  of  the  point 
which  the  struggle  between  the  rights  of  conscience 
and  the  responsibilities  of  religious  conviction  had 
generally  reached.  The  old  laws  for  the  keeping 
of  Sunday  were  retained  in  every  constitution.  In 


THE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  125 

some  cases,  the  narrow  system  of  religious  tests  re 
appeared.  In  Delaware,  no  Unitarian  was  allowed 
to  hold  office.  The  test  of  eligibility  in  Massa 
chusetts  and  Maryland  was  belief  in  the  Christian 
religion,  —  the  inheritors  of  the  land  planted  by 
Puritans  and  the  inheritors  of  the  land  planted  by 
Catholics  meeting  upon  a  common  stand-point  of 
intolerance.  South  Carolina  went  ostensibly  a  step 
further,  and  declared  that  no  man  was  fit  for  the 
discharge  of  civil  functions  who  did  not  believe  in 
a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments.  Con 
gregationalism  still  continued  to  hold  the  chief 
place  in  Massachusetts,  New  Hampshire,  and  Con 
necticut  ;  and,  like  her  sister  sects,  was  still  willing 
to  strengthen  her  hold,  and  reserve  for  herself  the 
rewards  as  well  as  the  duties  of  the  ministry.  But 
Episcopalianism,  as  if  anxious  to  reverse  the  terms 
of  James's  adage,  had  shown  so  decided  a  leaning 
towards  the  royal  cause,  that  her  strong  hold,  Vir 
ginia,  fell  from  her,  although  in  New  York  and 
New  Jersey  she  still  retained  the  extensive  land 
grants  which  had  been  given  to  her  in  the  day  of 
higher  hopes,  as  earnests  of  what  her  well-wishers 
were  ready  to  do  for  the  extension  of  her  suprem 
acy. 

In  only  five  constitutions  was  education  men 
tioned  ;  and  in  only  two,  that  of  Massachusetts  and 
the  second  constitution  of  New  Hampshire,  were 
the  provisions  for  schools  for  general  instruction  of 
any  practical  value. 


126  LECTURE  IV. 

The  question  of  suffrage,  important  as  it  must 
always  be,  had  not  yet  attained  that  degree  of  im 
portance  which  it  soon  attained  when  the  flood 
gates  of  emigration  were  thrown  open  and  a  hetero 
geneous  mass  of  different  nations  poured  in  upon 
our  shores.  Distinctions  had  been  made  at  an 
early  period  between  those  to  whom  the  right  was 
extended,  and  those  from  whom  it  was  withheld. 
But  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  fundamental  distinction 
was  a  property  distinction  ;  and  where  enormous 
fortunes  were  unknown,  it  was  not  likely  to  be 
great.  The  highest  point  was  a  freehold  estate  of 
1 250  ;  the  lowest,  a  freehold  of  $  50  ;  and  in  sev 
eral  States  personal  property  gave  the  same  privi 
leges  as  real  estate.  A  tribute  to  primogeniture 
was  paid  in  Rhode  Island  and  Pennsylvania,  the 
eldest  son  enjoying  a  right  to  vote  as  the  eldest  son 
of  a  freeholder.  In  some  Colonies  voting  depend 
ed  upon  the  payment  of  taxes,  and  every  tax-payer 
was  a  voter.  Suffrage  had  not  yet  taken  its  place 
as  a  natural  right.  Stronger  evidence  of  interest 
in  the  public  welfare  than  the  mere  fact  of  resi 
dence  was  still  required  to  enable  men  to  say  to 
whom  they  chose  to  confide  the  trust  of  making 
and  executing  their  laws. 

In  only  one  constitution  was  there  any  mention 
of  laws  for  the  transmission  of  real  estate.  Geor 
gia  abolished  entails,  and  provided  for  an  equal  di 
vision  of  property  among  the  children.  Nowhere 
else  was  the  question  touched  in  the  beginning  ; 


THE   STATE    GOVERNMENTS.  12? 

and  in  the  other  States  invidious  distinctions,  de 
rived  for  the  most  part  from  English  law,  continued 
to  hold  their  place  on  the  statute-book  a  few  years 
longer. 

It  is  evident  from  this  brief  sketch,  that  the  only 
material  alteration  which  the  Revolution  made  in 
the  municipal  aspect  of  the  Colonies  was  in  the 
substitution  of  the  people  for  the  King  as  the  visi 
ble  source  of  power  ;  for  we  must  still  bear  in  mind 
that  the  doctrine  of  popular  sovereignty  had  been 
hitherto  a  revolutionary  doctrine,  —  a  principle 
held  in  reserve  for  great  emergencies,  and  never 
brought  prominently  forward  when  any  other  way 
of  action  remained  open.  But  henceforth  it  be 
came  the  fundamental  principle,  the  common  start 
ing-point,  the  only  basis  upon  which  the  builders 
could  construct  an  edifice  fit  to  stand  in  the  place 
of  that  which  they  had  thrown  down.  And  thus 
every  constitution  was  the  production  of  men  es 
pecially  chosen  to  make  it,  —  everywhere  the  work 
of  the  people  through  the  delegates  of  their  choice. 

It  was  natural  that  men  should  love  this  work 
of  their  own  hands.  And  unfortunately  it  was 
equally  natural  that,  in  the  fervor  of  this  love,  they 
should  look  suspiciously  upon  everything  which 
seemed  to  throw  any  portion  of  it  into  the  shade. 
A  good  part  of  their  history  thus  far  had  been 
made  up  of  disputes  with  the  crown  and  the  offi 
cers  of  the  crown ;  and  they  had  grown  into  a  sen- 
eitive  jealousy  of  possible  encroachments,  which  led 


128  LECTURE  IV. 

them  to  scrutinize  closely  every  act  of  their  sover 
eign  beyond  the  ocean.  And  thus  when  it  be 
came  necessary  to  create  another  power  to  act  for 
them  all,  and  confide  some  of  the  functions  of  sover 
eignty  to  a  sovereign  at  their  own  doors,  the  ques 
tion  that  they  proposed  to  themselves  was  not  how 
much  power  the  common  good  required  them  to 
delegate,  but  how  much  it  was  possible  to  withhold. 
Even  with  that  little,  the  sovereign  was  an  object 
of  jealousy  and  suspicion.  They  neither  loved  nor 
venerated  him,  and  yet  he  inspired  them  with  in 
definite  and  unwelcome  fears.  How  could  they 
heartily  love  and  trust  King  Cong.,  —  they  who 
had  wasted  so  much  unrequited  affection  upon 
King  George? 

This  jealousy  was  not  long  in  finding  open  ex 
pression.  Even  the  Congress  of  1775,  strong  in 
the  first  glow  of  patriotic  faith  from  which  it  sprang, 
had  thought  it  necessary  to  explain  and  apologize 
to  the  New  York  Convention  for  its  resolves  ao-ainst 

O 

New  York  Tories.  Congress  called,  but  the  States 
did  not  hear.  The  whole  course  of  the  war  is 
marked  by  hesitations,  doublings,  delays,  produced 
by  the  consciousness  that  its  authority  was  an  ob 
ject  of  suspicion  even  when  its  weakness  was  an 
object  of  contempt.  In  South  Carolina,  where 
the  State  authority  had  for  a  season  been  entirely 
overthrown,  where  the  legislature  could  only  come 
together  when  the  Continental  army  had  opened 
the  way  for  it,  the  commanding  general  found  it 


THE   STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  129 

necessary  to  deal  very  tenderly  with  untimely  sus 
ceptibilities. 

You  all  know  how  important  it  is  in  war  to 
obtain  early  information  of  the  enemy's  plans  and 
movements.  Through  Colonel  Laurens,  General 
Greene  had  succeeded  in  securing,  within  the  ene 
my's  lines,  the  services  of  some  Americans,  who, 
having  been  prevailed  upon  in  an  evil  hour  to  take 
out  protections  from  the  British,  were  now  anxious 
to  make  their  peace  with  their  countrymen.  The 
information  that  they  gave  was  important,  a  full 
equivalent  for  the  stipulated  reward,  —  pardon 
and  the  restoration  of  their  estates.  Laurens  was 
killed.  General  Greene  continued  to  avail  himself 
of  the  sources  of  correspondence  which  Laurens 
had  opened ;  and,  when  the  proper  moment  came, 
felt  himself  bound  to  exert  all  his  influence  with 
the  legislature  in  order  to  obtain  for  his  agents 
the  pardon  and  restitution  that  had  been  promised 
them.  But  his  representations  were  received  with 
strong  tokens  of  dissatisfaction.  The  war  was 
nearly  over,  and  he  was  no  longer  needed  to  stand 
between  the  State  government  and  the  enemy. 

But  unfortunately  he  was  soon  compelled  to  re 
turn  to  this  delicate  ground.  Congress  had  voted 
a  five  per  cent  duty  on  importations ;  but  the  con 
sent  of  the  States  was  necessary  before  it  could  be 
collected.  Eleven  States  had  agreed  to  it ;  two 
had  refused,  and  one  of  these,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
was  Rhode  Island.  Virginia,  after  giving  her  con- 

6*  I 


130  LECTURE  IV. 

sent,  had  withdrawn  it.  South  Carolina,  it  was 
feared,  was  about  to  follow  her  example.  Robert 
Morris,  the  Superintendent  of  Finance,  who  had 
counted  upon  this  duty,  and  built  all  his  hopes 
of  meeting  his  engagements  upon  it,  was  greatly 
embarrassed.  But  General  Greene,  with  a  victori 
ous,  but  half-starved,  half-naked,  and  unpaid  army 
depending  on  him,  felt  that  the  question  was  very 
grave.  Throughout  all  his  Southern  campaigns 
he  had  kept  up  a  regular  correspondence  with  the 
Governors  of  the  States  comprised  in  his  command  ; 
a  serious  addition  to  his  labors,  but  essential  for 
keeping  the  wants  of  the  army  and  the  nature  of 
their  own  dangers  constantly  before  them.  Ear 
nest  as  his  representations  had  sometimes  been, 
they  had  always  been  well  received,  and  by  no 
one  more  readily  than  by  Thomas  Jefferson,  when 
that  father  of  democracy  filled  the  executive  chair 
of  Virginia.  Rutledge,  too,  South  Carolina's  own 
Governor,  had  passed  weeks  in  Greene's  camp, 
taking  counsel  of  him,  and  preparing,  with  his  aid, 
the  measures  necessary  for  the  reinstatement  of 
civil  government. 

And  now,  although  a  new  Governor  held  the 
chair,  Greene  was  unwilling  to  believe  that  the 
candid  representations  which  had  always  been  wel 
come  in  the  day  of  trial  would  be  misinterpreted 
in  the  day  of  prosperity.  His  letter  to  Governor 
Guerard  was  full,  earnest,  and  respectful.  He 
spoke  of  the  embarrassments  under  which  Congress 


THE   STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  131 

labored  ;  of  the  little  ground  that  it  gave  for  appre 
hension  ;  and  frankly  avowed  that  he  was  one  of 
those  who  thought  that  independence  could  only 
prove  a  blessing  under  Congressional  influence. 
He  spoke  of  the  army,  of  the  noble  proofs  which  it 
had  given  of  virtue  and  patriotism  under  almost 
every  species  of  distress  and  privation.  It  had 
done  it  in  the  full  persuasion  that  justice  would  be 
rendered  it  in  due  time.  And  now  that  it  was  in 
the  power  of  government  to  take  a  step  towards 
providing  for  the  fulfilment  of  its  obligations,  it  was 
dangerous  to  drive  such  men  to  despair.  Many 
other  things  he  said,  and  in  the  same  wise  and 
earnest  spirit. 

The  Governor  laid  the  letter  before  the  Assem 
bly,  as  he  was  requested  to  do,  but  added  a  letter 
of  his  own,  strongly  dissuading  the  measures  which 
Greene  had  advised.  As  Greene's  letter  was  a- 
reading,  the  members  could  scarcely  restrain  their 
impatience.  "  A  Cromwell  was  dictating  to  free 
men,  threatening  them  with  a  mutinied  army,  — 
trying  to  build  up  the  power  of  Congress  upon  the 
ruin  of  State  rights." 

But  there  was  still  a  step  further  which  this  un 
reasonable  jealousy  of  Congress  and  their  general 
could  go,  and  Governor  Guerard  was  prepared  to 
take  it.  The  enemy  was  gone,  the  State  was 
free ;  the  Governor  had  once  more  set  up  his  resi 
dence  in  Charleston.  But  peace  was  not  yet  de 
clared,  the  army  was  not  yet  disbanded,  the  laws 


132  LECTURE  IV. 

and  forms  of  war  were  still  observed  and  still 
necessary.  During  the  occupation  of  Charleston 
by  the  British,  a  British  officer,  Captain  Kerr,  had 
married  an  American  lady ;  and  now  Governor 
Tonyn  of  East  Florida,  having  occasion  to  commu 
nicate  with  General  Greene,  sent  Captain  Kerr  to 
Charleston  with  a  flag  addressed  as  usage  required 
to  the  Commander  of  the  Southern  Department. 
Governor  Guerard  insisted  that  the  flag  should 

O 

have  been  addressed  to  him  as  Commander-in- 
chief  of  the  State,  and,  not  satisfied  with  asserting 
"it,  sent  the  sheriff  to  seize  the  vessel  which  bore 
the  flag,  and  put  the  whole  party  in  prison.  The 
astonished  Englishman  appealed  to  General  Greene. 
General  Greene  made  a  representation  of  the  case 
to  the  Governor ;  Kerr  was  released,  but  the  crew 
were  detained  in  custody. 

It  was  a  clear  case,  though  a  delicate  one.  Gen 
eral  Greene  might  justly  have  felt  that  something 
was  due  to  him.  But  he  plainly  saw  what  was 
due  to  Congress,  and  he  was  resolved  that  the  due 
should  be  paid.  He  was  not  fond  of  councils  of 
war.  Where  fighting  was  to  be  done,  he  never 
called  them.  But  this  was  a  case  manifestly  with 
in  their  competency ;  and,  calling  his  officers  to 
gether,  he  told  them  the  story,  showed  them  the 
letters,  and  asked  them  if  in  their  opinion  the  Brit 
ish  officer  had  violated  any  of  the  laws  of  a  flag. 
They  unanimously  answered  no.  Greene  instantly 
took  possession  of  the  passes  to  the  city,  and  or- 


THE  STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  133 

dered  that  no  flag  should  be  admitted  without  per 
mission  from  head-quarters.  His  reputation  for 
thinking  before  he  acted,  and  holding  firmly  to  his 
resolutions  when  he  had  begun  to  act,  was  too 
well  established  to  admit  of  any  doubt  as  to  what 
he  would  do  now ;  and  reluctantly,  and  with  very 
bad  grace,  the  Governor  released  the  men,  order 
ing  Captain  Kerr,  as  a  salvo  for  his  wounded  dig 
nity,  to  leave  the  city  at  once,  and  the  State  within 
three  days.  Captain  Kerr  again  called  upon  Gen 
eral  Greene  for  protection.  "  The  order  sent  you 
by  the  Governor,"  was  the  reply,  "you  will  pay 
no  attention  to.  When  I  am  ready  to  discharge 
your  flag,  I  will  inform  you.  The  time  and  man 
ner  of  your  leaving  the  State  shall  be  made  as 
agreeable  as  possible I  am  exceedingly  un 
happy  at  this  additional  instance  of  indelicate  treat 
ment  you  have  met  with Nothing  but  my 

wishes  to  preserve  the  tranquillity  of  the  people, 
and  the  respect  and  regard  I  have  for  their  peace 
and  quiet,  could  have  prevailed  on  me  to  suffer 
your  flag  to  be  treated  in  the  manner  it  has 
been." 

And  reporting  the  case  to  General  Lincoln,  Sec 
retary  of  War,  with  a  request  to  him  to  lay  it  be 
fore  Congress,  he  says  that  "  precedents  for  such 
encroachments  upon  United  States  authority  shall 
not  be  founded  upon  his  failure  to  resist  them. 
This,"  he  adds,  "  is  not  one  of  those  cases  where 
the  right  is  doubtful,  or  public  safety  the  object ; 


134  LECTURE  IV. 

but  appears  to  be  a  matter  of  temper,  and  pursued 
without  regard  to  either." 

And  thus  ended  the  first  conflict  between  the 
government  of  South  Carolina  and  the  government 
of  the  United  States. 

It  would  be  easy  to  add  proof  to  proof  of  the 
feeling  with  which  the  new  State  governments 
entered  upon  the  possession  of  their  authority. 
Experience  had  taught  them  the  value  of  their 
municipal  institutions,  but  it  had  not  yet  taught 
them  the  value  of  that  central  institution  upon 
whose  preservation  they  all  depended.  They  had 
learnt  the  necessity  of  combining  as  States  for  the 
protection  of  their  common  interests  ;  but  they  had 
not  learnt  the  equal  necessity  of  uniting  as  a  peo 
ple  in  order  to  make  the  union  of  States  firm,  ef 
fective,  and  lasting.  A  short  but  perilous  road  was 
still  to  be  trod  before  they  reached  those  serene 
heights  whence  Washington  and  Franklin  and 
Hamilton  were  yet  to  look  hopefully  forth  upon 
the  future  of  the  country  they  had  loved  and  served 
so  well. 

Yet  the  men  who  indulged  these  untimely  jeal 
ousies  were  the  men  who  had  displayed  so  much 
familiarity  with  practical  government,  and  so  just 
a  comprehension  of  the  principles  of  theoretical 
government ;  men  who,  knowing  that  no  govern 
ment  can  perform  its  functions  without  a  machin 
ery  of  its  own,  had  made  their  State  machinery  as 
perfect  as  they  knew  how  to  make  it,  but  had  de- 


THE   STATE   GOVERNMENTS.  135 

liberately  clogged  every  wheel  and  weakened  every 
spring  which  could  give  efficiency  and  vigor  to  their 
united  strength. 

And  thus  must  it  ever  be  with  individuals  and 
with  States,  who,  accepting  a  principle,  refuse  to 
accept  its  consequences.  For  it  is  no  less  sure  that 
every  general  law  of  being  will  sooner  or  later 
work  itself  fully  out,  than  that  all  society  is 
founded  upon  law.  The  law  of  union  is  eminent 
ly  a  law  of  sacrifice.  The  sacrifice  of  something 
that  you  might  freely  do  while  living  alone,  be 
comes  an  imperative  condition  the  moment  that 
you  undertake  to  live  with  another.  And  as,  in 
every  State,  each  town,  while  performing  some  of 
the  functions  of  government  for  itself,  and  possess 
ing  all  the  machinery  which  the  performance  of 
them  required,  looked  to  the  State  government  for 
the  performance  of  other  functions,  and  cheerfully 
submitted  to  the  curtailment  of  municipal  authority 
and  the  partial  subordination  which  such  relations 
towards  the  State  required ;  so  was  it  only  by  the 
sacrifice  of  certain  rights  that  the  States  could 
build  up  a  central  power  strong  enough  to  perform 
for  them  those  indispensable  acts  of  general  gov 
ernment  which  they  could  not  perform  for  them 
selves. 

Manifest  as  this  truth  may  now  appear  to  every 
understanding,  the  history  of  the  civil  government 
of  the  Revolution  is  in  a  great  measure  the  history 
of  a  persistent  and  bitter  struggle  with  it  in  almost 


136  THE   STATE   GOVERNMENTS. 

all  its  practical  applications.  Step  by  step  the 
ground  was  contested,  —  step  by  step  the  ground 
was  won.  Yet  how  many  steps  were  still  required 
to  bring  our  fathers  to  the  Constitution  which  made 
us  a  powerful  nation  !  How  many  more  must  yet 
be  taken,  before  we  reach  the  full  consequences  of 
that  sublime  Declaration  which  made  us  an  inde 
pendent  people  1 


LECTURE    V. 

FINANCES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

IN  the  sketches  which  formed  the  subject  of  my 
last  two  Lectures,  you  doubtless  observed  that  I 
confined  myself  to  general  views  and  statements, 
without  attempting  to  enter  into  a  full  study  of  any 
of  the  various  classes  of  acts  which  statesmen  are 
called  upon  to  perform.  This  evening  I  propose 
to  give  you  a  fuller  view  of  Congress  in  action  ; 
and  in  action  upon  one  of  the  most  complex  and 
difficult  subjects  of  legislation.  Resistance  once 
resolved  on,  it  became  necessary  to  provide  the 
means  of  rendering  it  effective.  There  were  men 
enough  in  the  country  to  fill  up  the  army,  there 
was  money  enough  in  the  country  to  feed,  pay,  and 
clothe  them ;  but  how  were  these  men  and  that 
money  to  be  reached?  We  shall  see  hereafter 
what  was  done  to  bring  out  the  physical  resources 
of  the  country,  and  how  unwisely  it  was  done. 
This  evening  I  shall  confine  myself  to  a  review  of 
the  efforts  which  were  made  earnestly  and  persist 
ently,  from  the  beginning  of  the  war  to  the  end  of 
it,  to  bring  out  its  pecuniary  resources. 


138  LECTURE    V. 

And  here,  on  the  threshold,  let  me  remind  you 
that,  in  all  historical  studies,  you  should  still  bear 
in  mind  the  difference  between  the  point  of  view 
from  which  you  look  at  events,  and  that  from  which 
they  were  seen  by  the  actors  themselves.  We  all 
act  under  the  influence  of  ideas.  Even  those  who 
speak  of  theories  with  contempt  are  none  the  less  the 
unconscious  disciples  of  some  theory,  none  the  less 
busied  in  working  out  some  problems  of  the  great 
theory  of  life.  Much  as  they  fancy  that  they  dif 
fer  from  the  speculative  man,  they  differ  from  him 
only  in  contenting  themselves  with  seeing  the  path 
as  it  lies  at  their  feet,  while  he  strives  to  embrace 
it  all,  starting-point  and  end,  in  one  comprehensive 
view.  And  thus  in  looking  back  upon  the  past  we 
are  irresistibly  led  to  arrange  the  events  of  history, 
as  we  arrange  the  facts  of  a  science,  in  their  ap 
propriate  classes  and  under  their  respective  laws. 
And  thus,  too,  these  events  give  us  the  true  meas 
ure  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  culture  of  the 
times,  of  the  extent  to  which  just  ideas  prevailed 
therein  upon  all  the  duties  and  functions  of  private 
and  public  life.  Tried  by  the  standard  of  absolute 
truth  and  right,  grievously  would  they  all  fall  short, 
and  we,  too,  with  them.  Judged  by  the  human 
standard  of  progressive  development  and  gradual 
growth,  —  the  only  standard  to  which  the  man  of 
the  beam  can  venture,  unrebuked,  to  bring  the  man 
of  the  mote,  — we  shall  find  much  in  them  all  to 
sadden  us,  and  much  also  in  which  we  can  sin 
cerely  rejoice. 


FINANCES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      139 

In  judging,  therefore,  the  political  acts  of  our 
ancestors,  we  have  a  right  to  bring  them  to  the 
standard  of  the  political  science  of  their  own  age, 
but  we  have  no  right  to  bring  them  to  the  higher 
standard  of  ours.  Montesquieu  could  give  them 
but  an  imperfect  clew  to  the  labyrinth  in  which 
they  found  themselves  involved  ;  and  yet  no  one 
had  seen  farther  into  the  mysteries  of  social  and 
political  organization  than  Montesquieu.  Hume 
had  scattered  brilliant  rays  on  dark  places,  and 
started  ideas  which,  once  at  work  in  the  mind, 
could  never  rest  till  they  had  evolved  momentous 
truths  and  overthrown  long-standing  errors.  But 
no  one  had  yet  seen  (Adam  Smith's  great  work 
was  just  going  to  the  press),  that  labor  was  the 
original  source  of  every  form  of  wealth,  —  that  the 
farmer,  the  merchant,  the  manufacturer,  were  all 
equally  the  instruments  of  national  prosperity,— 
or  demonstrated  as  Smith  does,  that  nations  grow 
rich  and  powerful  by  giving  as  they  receive,  and 
that  the  good  of  one  is  the  good  of  all.  The  world 
had  not  yet  seen  that  fierce  conflict  between  antag 
onistic  principles  which  she  was  soon  to  see  in  the 
French  Revolution ;  nor  had  political  science  yet 
recorded  those  daring  experiments  in  remoulding 
society,  those  constitutions  framed  in  closets,  dis 
cussed  in  clubs,  accepted  and  overthrown  with 
equal  demonstrations  of  popular  zeal,  and  which, 
expressing  in  their  terrible  energy  the  universal 
dissatisfaction  with  past  and  present,  the  universal 


140  LECTURE    V. 

grasping  at  a  brighter  future,  have  met  and  an 
swered  so  many  grave  questions,  neither  pro 
pounded  nor  solved  in  any  of  the  two  hundred 
constitutions  which  Aristotle  studied  in  order  to 
prepare  himself  for  the  composition  of  his  "  Poli 
tics."  The  world  had  not  yet  seen  a  powerful 
nation  tottering  on  the  brink  of  anarchy,  with  all 
the  elements  of  prosperity  in  her  bosom,  —  nor  a 
bankrupt  state  sustaining  a  war  that  demanded  an 
nual  millions,  and  growing  daily  in  wealth  and 
strength,  —  nor  the  economical  phenomena  which 
followed  the  reopening  of  Continental  commerce 
in  1814,  —  nor  the  still  more  startling  phenomena 
which  a  few  years  later  attended  England's  return 
to  specie-payments  and  a  specie-currency,  —  nor 
statesmen  seating  themselves  gravely  before  the 
map  of  Europe  to  distribute  its  kingdoms  and 
peoples  according  to  their  own  conceptions  of  the 
balance  of  power,  but  finding  all  the  results  of 
their  combined  wisdom  set  at  nought  by  the  inex 
orable  development  of  the  fundamental  principle 
which  they  had  refused  to  recognize. 

But  we  have  seen  these  things,  and,  having  seen 
them,  unconsciously  apply  the  knowledge  derived 
from  them  to  events  to  which  we  have  no  right  to 
apply  it.  We  condemn  errors  which  we  should 
never  have  detected  without  the  aid  of  a  lio;ht 

O 

which  was  hidden  from  our  fathers,  and  will  still 
be  dwelling  upon  shortcomings  which  nothing 
could  have  avoided  but  a  general  diffusion  of  that 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     HI 

wisdom  which  Providence  never  vouchsafes  except 
as  a  gift  to  a  few  exalted  minds.  Every  school 
boy  has  his  text-book  of  political  economy  now ;  but 
many  can  remember  when  these  books  first  made 
their  appearance  in  schools ;  and  so  late  as  1820 
the  Professor  of  History  in  English  Cambridge 
publicly  lamented  that  there  was  no  work  upon 
this  vital  subject  which  he  could  give  to  his  classes. 

When,  therefore,  our  fathers  found  themselves 
face  to  face  with  the  complex  questions  of  finance, 
they  naturally  fell  back  upon  the  experience  and 
devices  of  their  past  history ;  they  did  as  in  such 
emergencies  men  always  do,  —  they  tried  to 
meet  the  present  difficulty  without  weighing  ma 
turely  the  future  difficulty.  The  present  was  at 
the  door,  palpable,  stern,  urgent,  relentless;  and 
as  they  looked  at  it,  they  could  see  nothing  beyond 
half  so  full  of  perplexity  and  danger.  They  hoped, 
as  in  the  face  of  all  history  and  all  experience  men 
will  ever  hope,  that  out  of  those  depths  which 
their  feeble  eyes  were  unable  to  penetrate,  some 
thing  might  yet  arise  in  their  hour  of  need  to  avert 
the  peril  and  snatch  them  from  the  precipice. 
Their  past. history  had  its  lessons  of  encourage 
ment,  some  thought,  and,  some  thought,  of  warn 
ing.  They  seized  the  example,  but  the  admoni 
tion  passed  unheeded. 

Short  as  the  chronological  record  of  American 
history  then  was,  that  exchange  of  the  products  of 
labor  which  so  speedily  grows  up  into  commerce 


142  LECTURE    V. 

had  already  passed  through  all  its  phases,  from  di 
rect  barter  to  bank-notes  and  bills  of  exchange. 
Men  gave  what  they  wanted  less  to  get  what  they 
wanted  more;  the  products  of  industry  without 
doors  for  the  products  of  industry  within  doors ; 
and  it  was  only  when  they  wished  to  add  to  their 
stock  of  luxuries  or  conveniences  from  a  distance 
that  they  felt  the  want  of  money.  Prices  natural 
ly  found  their  own  level,  —  were  what,  when  left 
to  themselves  they  always  are,  the  natural  expres 
sion  of  the  relations  between  demand  and  supply. 
Tobacco  stood  the  Virginian  instead  of  money  long 
after  money  had  become  abundant,  procuring  him 
corn,  meat,  raiment.  More  than  once,  too,  it  pro 
cured  him  something  still  better.  In  the  very 
same  year  in  which  the  Pilgrims  landed  at  Plym 
outh,  history  tells  us,  ninety  maidens  of  "  virtuous 
education  and  demeanor  "  landed  in  Virginia ;  the 
next  year  brought  sixty  more  ;  and,  provident  in 
dustry  reaping  its  own  reward,  he  whose  busy 
hands  had  raised  the  largest  crop  of  tobacco  was 
enabled  to  make  the  first  choice  of  a  wife.  And 
it  must  have  been  an  edifying  and  pleasant  specta 
cle  to  see  each  stalwart  Virginian  pressing  eagerly 
on  towards  the  landing,  with  his  bundle  of  tobacco, 
on  his  back,  and  walking  deliberately  home  again 
with  an  affectionate  wife  under  his  arm. 

But  already  there  was  a  pernicious  principle  at 
work,  —  protested  against  by  experience  wherever 
tried,  and  still  repeatedly  tried  anew,  —  the  as- 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     143 

sumption  by  government  of  the  power  to  regulate 
the  prices  of  goods.  The  first  instance  carries  us 
back  to  1618,  and  thinking  men  still  believed  it 
possible  in  1777.  The  right  to  regulate  the  prices 
of  labor  was  its  natural  corollary,  bringing  with  it 
the  power  of  creating  legal  tenders,  and  the  vari 
ous  representatives  of  value,  without  any  corre 
spondent  measures  for  creating  the  value  itself,  or, 
in  simpler  words,  paper-money  without  capital. 
And  thus,  logically  as  well  as  historically,  we  reach 
the  first  issue  of  paper-money  in  1690,  that  year 
so  memorable  as  the  year  of  the  first  Congress. 

New  England,  encouraged  by  a  successful  expe 
dition  against  Port  Royal,  made  an  attempt  upon 
Quebec.  Confident  of  success,  she  sent  forth  her 
little  army  without  providing  the  means  of  paying 
it.  The  soldiers  came  back  soured  by  disaster  and 
fatigue,  and,  not  yet  up  to  the  standard  of  1776, 
were  upon  the  point  of  mutinying  for  their  pay. 
To  escape  the  immediate  danger,  Massachusetts 
bethought  her  of  bills  of  credit.  They  were  is 
sued,  accepted,  and  redeemed,  although  the  first 
holders  suffered  great  losses,  and  the  last  holders, 
or  the  speculators,  were  the  only  ones  that  found 
them  faithful  pledges.  The  flood-gates  once 
opened,  the  water  poured  in  amain.  Every  press 
ing  emergency  afforded  a  pretext  for  a  new  issue. 
Other  Colonies  followed  the  seductive  example. 
Paper  was  soon  issued  to  make  money  plenty. 
Men's  minds  became  familiar  with  the  idea,  as 


144  LECTURE    V. 

they  saw  the  convenient  substitute  passing  freely 
from  hand  to  hand.  Accepted  at  market,  accept 
ed  at  the  retail  store,  accepted  in  the  counting- 
room,  accepted  for  taxes,  everywhere  a  legal  ten 
der,  it  seemed  adequate  to  all  the  demands  of 
domestic  trade.  But  erelong  came  undue  fluctua 
tions  of  prices,  depreciations,  failures,  —  all  the 
well-known  indications  of  an  unsound  currency. 
England  interposed  to  protect  her  own  merchants, 
to  whom  American  paper-money  was  utterly  worth 
less  ;  and  Parliament  stripped  it  of  its  value  as  a 
legal  tender.  Men's  minds  were  divided.  They 
had  never  before  been  called  upon  to  discuss  such 
questions  upon  such  a  scale  or  in  such  a  form. 
They  were  at  a  loss  for  the  principle,  still  envel 
oped  in  the  multitude  and  variety  of  conflicting 
theories  and  obstinate  facts. 

One  fact,  however,  was  clearly  established, — 
that  a  government  could,  in  great  need,  make  pa 
per  fulfil,  for  a  while,  the  office  of  money ;  and  if 
a  regular  government,  why  not  also  a  revolution 
ary  government,  sustained  and  accepted  by  the 
people  ?  Here,  then,  begins  the  history  of  Conti 
nental  money,  —  the  principal  chapter  in  the  finan 
cial  history  of  the  Revolution,  —  leading  us,  like 
all  such  histories,  over  ground  thick-strown  with 
unheeded  admonitions  and  neglected  warnings, 
through  a  round  of  constantly  recurring  phenome 
na,  varied  only  here  and  there  by  modifications  in 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  appear. 


FINANCES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      145 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  we  have  no  rec 
ord  of  the  discussions  through  which  Congress 
reached  the  resolves  of  June  22,  1775 :  "  That  a 
sum  not  exceeding  two  millions  of  Spanish  milled 
dollars  be  emitted  by  the  Congress  in  bills  of  credit 
for  the  defence  of  America.  That  the  twelve  con 
federated  Colonies  "  (Georgia,  it  will  be  remem 
bered,  had  not  yet  sent  delegates)  "  be  pledged  for 
the  redemption  of  the  bills  of  credit  now  to  be 
emitted."  We  do  not  know  positively  that  there 
was  any  discussion.  If  there  was,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  conceive  how  some  of  the  reasoning  ran,  —  how 
each  delegate  had  arguments  and  examples  from 
his  own  Colony  ;  how  confidently  Pennsylvanians 
would  speak  of  the  security  which  they  had  given 
to  their  paper  ;  how  confidently  Virginians  would 
assert  that  even  the  greatest  straits  might  be  passed 
without  having  recourse  to  so  dangerous  a  medi 
um  ;  how  all  the  facts  in  the  history  of  paper- 
money  would  be  brought  forward  to  prove  both 
sides  of  the  question,  but  how  the  underlying  prin 
ciple,  subtile,  and  impalpable,  might  still  elude 
them  all,  as  it  long  still  continued  to  elude  wise 
statesmen  and  thoughtful  economists;  how,  at  last, 
some  impatient  spirit,  breaking  through  the  un 
timely  delay,  sternly  asked  them  what  else  they 
proposed  to  do.  By  what  alchemy  would  they 
create  gold  and  silver?  By  what  magic  would 
they  fill  the  coffers  which  their  non-exportation 
resolutions  had  kept  empty,  or  bring  in  the  sup- 


146  LECTURE    V. 

plies  which  their  non-importation  resolutions  had 
cut  off?  What  arguments  of  their  devising  would 
induce  a  people  in  arms  against  taxation  to  sub 
mit  to  tenfold  heavier  taxes  than  those  which  they 
had  indignantly  repelled  ?  Necessity,  inexora 
ble  necessity,  was  now  their  lawgiver ;  they  had 
adopted  an  army,  they  must  support  it ;  they  had 
voted  to  pay  their  officers,  they  must  secure  the 
means  of  giving  their  vote  effect ;  arms,  ammuni 
tion,  camp-equipage,  everything  was  to  be  provid 
ed  for.  The  people  were  full  of  ardor,  glowing 
with  fiery  zeal ;  your  promise  to  pay  will  be  re 
ceived  like  payment ;  your  commands  will  be  in 
stantly  obeyed.  Every  hour's  delay  imperils  the 
sacred  cause,  chills  the  holy  enthusiasm ;  action, 
prompt,  energetic,  resolute  action,  is  what  the  crisis 
demands.  Men  must  see  that  we  are  in  earnest ; 
the  enemy  must  see  it;  nothing  else  will  bring 
them  to  terms ;  nothing  else  will  give  us  a  lasting 
peace  ;  and  in  such  a  peace  how  easily,  how  cheer 
fully,  shall  we  all  unite  in  paying  the  debt  by 
which  so  inestimable  a  blessing  was  won  ! 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  deny  the  force 
of  such  an  appeal.  There  were  doubtless  men 
in  Congress  who  believed  firmly  in  the  virtue  of 
the  people,  —  who  thought  that  after  the  proof 
which  the  people  had  given  of  their  readiness  to 
sacrifice  the  interests  of  the  present  moment  to  the 
interests  of  a  day  and  a  posterity  that  they  might 
not  live  to  see,  it  would  be  worse  than  scepticism 


FINANCES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      147 

to  call  it  in  question.  But  even  they  might  hesi 
tate  about  the  form  of  the  sacrifice  they  called  for, 
for  they  knew  how  often  the  world  is  governed  by 
names,  and  that  men's  minds  might  revolt  at  the 
idea  of  a  formal  tax,  although  they  would  submit 
to  pay  it  fifty-fold  under  the  name  of  depreciation. 
Even  at  this  day,  with  all  our  additional  light,  — 
the  combined  light  of  science  and  of  experience,  — 
it  is  difficult  to  see  what  else  they  could  have  done 
without  strengthening  dangerously  the  hands  of 
their  domestic  enemies.  Nor  let  this  be  taken  as 
a  proof  that  they  engaged  rashly  in  an  unequal 
contest,  even  though  it  was  necessarily  in  part  a 
war  of  paper  against  gold.  They  have  been  ac 
cused  of  this  by  their  friends  as  well  as  by  their 
enemies ;  they  have  been  accused  of  sacrificing  a 
positive  good  to  an  uncertain  hope,  —  of  suffering 
their  passions  to  hurry  them  into  a  war  for  which 
they  had  made  no  adequate  preparation,  and  had 
not  the  means  of  making  any  ;  that  they  wilfully, 
almost  wantonly,  incurred  the  fearful  responsibility 
of  staking  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  those  who  were 
looking  to  them  for  guidance  upon  the  chances  of  a 
single  cast.  But  the  accusation  is  unjust.  As  far 
as  human  foresight  could  reach,  they  had  calculat 
ed  these  chances  carefully.  They  knew  the  tenure 
by  which  they  held  their  authority,  and  that,  if 
they  ran  counter  to  the  popular  will,  the  people 
would  fall  from  them,  —  that,  if  they  should  fail  in 
making  their  position  good,  they  would  be  the  first, 


148  LECTURE    V. 

almost  the  only  victims,  —  that,  then  as  ever,  "  the 
thunderbolts  on  highest  mountains  light."  Charles 
Carroll  added  "  of  Carrollton "  to  his  name,  so 
that,  if  the  Declaration  he  was  setting  it  to  should 
bring  forfeiture  and  confiscation,  there  might  be  no 
mistake  about  the  victim.  Nor  was  it  without  a 
touch  of  sober  earnestness  that  Harrison,  bulky 
and  fat,  said  to  the  lean  and  shadowy  Gerry,  as  he 
laid  down  his  pen,  —  "  When  hanging-time  comes, 
I  shall  have  the  advantage  of  you.  I  shall  be  dead 
in  a  second,  while  you  will  be  kicking  in  the  air 
half  an  hour  after  I  am  gone."  But  they  knew 
also,  that,  if  there  are  dangers  which  we  do  not 
perceive  till  we  come  full  upon  them,  there  are 
likewise  helps  which  we  do  not  see  till  we  find  our 
selves  face  to  face  with  them,  —  and  that  in  the 
life  of  nations,  as  in  the  life  of  individuals,  there 
are  moments  when  all  that  the  wisest  and  most 
conscientious  can  do  is  to  see  that  everything  is  in 
its  place,  every  man  at  his  post,  and  resolutely  bide 
the  shock. 

While  this  subject  was  pressing  upon  Congress, 
it  was  occupying  no  less  seriously  leading  minds  in 
the  different  Colonies.  All  felt  that  the  success  of 
the  experiment  must  chiefly  depend  upon  the  de 
gree  of  security  that  could  be  given  to  the  bills. 
But  how  to  reach  that  necessary  degree  was  a  per 
plexing  question.  Three  ways  were  suggested  in 
the  New  York  Convention :  that  Congress  should 
fix  upon  a  sum,  assign  each  Colony  its  proportion, 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     140 

and  the  issue  be  made  by  the  Colony  upon  its  own 
responsibility ;  or  that  the  United  Colonies  should 
make  the  issue,  each  Colony  pledging  itself  to  re 
deem  the  part  that  fell  to  it ;  or,  lastly,  that,  Con 
gress  issuing  the  sum,  and  each  Colony  assuming 
its  proportionate  responsibility,  the  Colonies  should 
still  be  bound  as  a  whole  to  make  up  for  the  fail 
ure  of  any  individual  Colony  to  redeem  its  share. 
The  latter  was  proposed  by  the  Convention  as 
offering  greater  chances  of  security,  and  tending 
at  the  same  time  to  strengthen  the  bond  of  union. 
It  was  in  nearly  this  form,  also,  that  it  came  from 
Congress. 

No  time  was  now  lost  in  carrying  the  resolution 
into  effect.  The  next  day,  Tuesday,  June  23,  the 
number,  denomination,  and  form  of  the  bills  were 
decided  in  a  Committee  of  the  Whole.  It  was 
resolved  to  make  bills  of  eight  denominations,  from 
one  to  eight,  and  issue  forty-nine  thousand  of  each, 
completing  the  two  millions  by  eleven  thousand 
eight  hundred  of  twenty  dollars  each.  The  form 
of  the  bill  was  to  be,  — 

Continental  Currency. 
No>  Dollars. 

This  lill  entitles  the  bearer  to  receive 

Spanish  milled  dollars  or  the  value  thereof  in  gold 
or  silver,  according  to  the  resolutions  of  the  Con 
gress  held  at  Philadelphia  on  the  IQth  day  of  May,- 
A.  D.  1775. 


150  LECTURE    V. 

In  the  same  sitting  a  committee  of  five  was 
appointed  "  to  get  proper  plates  engraved,  to  pro 
vide  paper,  and  to  agree  with  printers  to  print  the 
above  bills."  Both  Franklin  and  John  Adams 
were  on  this  committee. 

Had  they  lived  in  1862  instead  of  1775,  how 
would  their  doors  have  been  beset  by  engravers  and 
paper-dealers  and  printers !  What  baskets  of  let 
ters  would  have  been  poured  upon  their  tables ! 
How  would  they  have  dreaded  the  sound  of  the 
knocker  or  the  cry  of  the  postman !  But,  alas  ! 
paper  was  so  far  from  abundant  that  generals  were 
often  reduced  to  hard  straits  for  enough  of  it  to 
write  their  reports  and  despatches  on ;  and  that 
Congressmen  were  not  much  better  off  will  be 

o 

believed  when  we  find  John  Adams  sending  his 
wife  a  sheet  or  two  at  a  time  under  the  same  en 
velope  with  his  own  letters.  .Printers  there  were, 
as  many,  perhaps,  as  the  business  required,  but  not 
enough  for  the  eager  contention  which  the  an- 

O  O 

nouncement  of  government  work  to  be  done  ex 
cites  among  us  in  these  days.  And  of  engravers 
there  were  but  four  between  Maine  and  Georgia. 
Of  these  four,  one  was  Paul  Revere  of  the  mid 
night  ride,*  the  Boston  boy  of  Huguenot  blood, 
whose  self-taught  graver  had  celebrated  the  reneal 

*  A  name  sure,  henceforth,  of  its  true  place  in  our  history ;  foi, 
thanks  to  Longfellow,  it  has  taken  a  firm  place  in  our  poetry. 
Would  that  others'  names  equally  deserving  might  be  equally 
fortunate. 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     151 

of  the  Stamp  Act,  condemned  to  perpetual  derision 
the  rescinders  of  1768,  and  told  the  story  of  the 
Boston  Massacre,  —  who,  when  the  first  grand 
jury  under  the  new  organization  was  drawn,  had 
met  the  judge  with,  "I  refuse  to  sarve," — a  sci 
entific  mechanic,  —  a  leader  at  the  Tea-party,  —  a 
soldier  of  the  old  war,  —  prepared  to  serve  in  this 
war,  too,  with  sword,  or  graver,  or  science,  — 
fitting  carriages,  at  Washington's  command,  to  the 
cannon  from  which  the  retreating  English  had 
knocked  off  the  trunnions,  learning  how  to  make 
powder  at  the  command  of  the  Provincial  Con 
gress,  and  setting  up  the  first  powder-mill  ever 
built  in  Massachusetts. 

No  mere  engraver's  task  for  him,  this  engraving 
the  first  bill-plates  of  Continental  Currency  !  How 
must  lie  have  warmed  over  the  design  !  how 
carefully  must  he  have  chosen  his  copper  !  how 
buoyantly  must  he  have  plied  his  graver,  harassed 
by  no  doubts,  disturbed  by  no  misgivings  of  the 
double  mission  which  those  little  plates  were  to 
perform,  —  the  good  one  first,  thank  God !  but  ah  ! 
how  fatal  a  one  afterward !  but  resolved  and  hope 
ful  as  on  that  April  night  when  he  spurred  his 
horse  from  cottage  to  hamlet,  rousing  the  sleepers 
with  the  cry,  long  unheard  in  the  sweet  valleys  of 
New  England,  "  Up  !  up  !  the  enemy  is  coming  !" 

The  paper  of  these  bills  was  thick,  so  thick  that 
the  enemy  called  it  the  pasteboard  money  of  the 
rebels.  Plate,  paper,  and  printing,  all  had  little 


152  LECTURE    V. 

in  common  with  the  elaborate  finish  and  delicate 
texture  of  a  modern  bank-note.  To  sign  them 
was  too  hard  a  tax  upon  Congressmen  already 
taxed  to  the  full  measure  of  their  working-time  by 
committees  and  protracted  daily  sessions ;  and 
therefore  a  committee  of  twenty-eight  gentlemen 
not  in  Congress  was  employed  to  sign  and  number 
them,  receiving  in  compensation  one  dollar  and  a 
third  for  every  thousand  bills. 

Meanwhile  loud  calls  for  money  were  daily 
reaching  the  doors  of  Congress.  Everywhere 
money  was  wanted,  —  money  to  buy  guns,  money 
to  buy  powder,  money  to  buy  provisions,  money  to 
send  officers  to  their  posts,  money  to  march  troops 
to  their  stations,  money  to  speed  messengers  to  and 
fro,  money  for  the  wants  of  to-day,  money  to  pay 
for  what  had  already  been  done,  and  still  more 
money  to  insure  the  right  doing  of  what  was  yet 
to  do :  Washington  wanted  it ;  Lee  wanted  it ; 
Sclmyler  wanted  it;  from  north  to  south,  from 
sea-board  to  inland,  came  one  deep,  monotonous, 
menacing  cry,  —  "  Money,  or  our  hands  are  pow 
erless  ! " 

How  long  would  these  two  millions  stand  such 
a  drain  ?  Spent  before  they  were  received,  hard 
ly  touching  the  Treasury-chest  as  a  starting-place 
before  they  flew  on  "the 'wings  of  all  the  winds"  to 
gladden  thousands  of  expectant  hearts  with  a  brief 
respite  from  one  of  their  many  cares.  Relief  there 
Certainly  was;  neither  long,  indeed,  nor  lasting, 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     153 
but  still  relief.     Good  Whigs  received   the   bills, 

O 

as  they  did  everything  that  came  from  Congress, 
with  unquestioning  confidence.  Tories  turned 
from  them  in  derision,  and  refused  to  give  their 
goods  for  them.  Whereupon- Congress  took  the 
matter  in  hand,  and  told  them  that  they  must. 
It  was  soon  seen  that  another  million  would  be 
wanted,  and  in  July  a  second  issue  was  resolved 
on.  All-devouring  war  had  soon  swallowed  this 
also.  Three  more  millions  were  ordered  in  No 
vember.  But  the  war,  men  said,  was  to  end  soon, 
—  by  June,  '76,  at  the  latest.  All  expenditures 
were  calculated  upon  this  supposition ;  and  wealth 
flowing  in  under  the  auspices  of  a  just  and  equa 
ble  accommodation  with  their  reconciled  mother, 
these  millions  which  had  served  them  so  well  in 
the  hour  of  need  would  soon  be  repaid  by  a  happy 
and  grateful  people  from  an  abundant  treasury. 

But  early  in  1776  reports  came  of  English  ne 
gotiations  for  foreign  mercenaries  to  help  put  down 
the  rebellion,  —  reports  which  soon  took  the  shape 
of  positive  information.  It  was  evident  that  no 
immediate  end  of  the  war  was  to  be  looked  for 
now  ;  already,  too,  independence  was  looming  up 
on  the  turbid  horizon ;  already  the  current  was 
bearing  them  onward,  deep,  swift,  irresistible ;  and 
thus  seizing  still  more  eagerly  upon  the  future, 
they  poured  out  other  four  millions  in  February, 
five  millions  in  May,  five  millions  in  July.  The 
Confederacy  was  not  yet  formed ;  the  Declaration 
7* 


^54  LECTURE    V. 

of  Independence  had  nothing  yet  to  authenticate 
it  but  the  signatures  of  John  Hancock  and  Charles 
Thompson  ;  and  the  republic  that  was  to  be  was 
already  solemnly  pledged  to  the  payment  of  twen 
ty  millions  of  dollars. 

Thus  far  men's  faith  had  not  faltered.  They 
saw  the  necessity  and  accepted  it,  giving  their 
goods  and  their  labor  unhesitatingly  for  a  slip  of 
paper  which  derived  all  its  value  from  the  resolves 
of  a  body  of  men  who  might,  upon  a  reverse,  be 
thrown  down  as  rapidly  as  they  had  been  set  up. 
And  then  whom  were  they  to  look  to  for  indemni 
fication  ?  But  now  began  a  sensible  depreciation, 
—  slight,  indeed,  at  first,  but  ominous.  Congress 
took  the  alarm  and  resolved  upon  a  loan,  —  re 
solved  to  borrow  directly  what  it  had  hitherto 
borrowed  indirectly,  the  goods  and  the  labor  of 
its  constituents.  Accordingly,  on  the  3d  of  Octo 
ber,  a  resolve  was  passed  for  raising  five  millions 
of  dollars  at  four  per  cent ;  and  in  order  to  make 
it  convenient  to  lenders,  loan-offices  were  estab 
lished  in  every  Colony,  with  a  commissioner  for 
each. 

Money  came  in  slowly,  but  ran  out  so  fast  that, 
in  November,  Congress  ordered  weekly  returns 
from  the  Treasury,  not  of  sums  on  hand,  but  of 
what  parts  of  the  last  emission  remained  unex 
pended.  The  campaign  of  1777  was  at  hand; 
now  the  campaign  of  177C  would  end  was  uncer 
tain.  The  same  impenetrable  veil  that  as  yet  hid 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     155 

Trenton  and  Princeton  from  all  eyes  concealed 
also  the  disasters  of  Fort  Washington  and  the  Jer 
seys.  Men  still  looked  hopefully  to  the  lower 
line  of  the  Hudson.  It  was  resolved,  therefore, 
to  make  an  immediate  effort  to  supply  the  Treas 
ury  by  a  lottery  to  be  drawn  at  Philadelphia. 

A  lottery,  —  does  not  the  word  carry  you  back, 
a  great  many  years  back,  to  other  times  and  other 
manners  ?  The  Articles  of  War  were  now  on  the 
table  of  Congress  for  revision  ;  and  in  the  second 
and  third  of  those  articles,  officers  and  soldiers  had 
been  earnestly  recommended  to  attend  divine  ser 
vice  diligently,  and  to  refrain,  under  grave  penal 
ties,  from  profane  cursing  or  swearing.  And  here 
legislators  deliberately  set  themselves  to  raise 
money  by  means  which  we  have  deliberately  con 
demned  as  gambling.  But  years  were  yet  to  pass 
before  statesmen,  or  the  people  rather,  were  brought 
to  feel  that  the  lottery-office  and  the  gaming-table 
stand  side  by  side  on  the  same  broad  highway. 

No  such  thoughts  troubled  the  minds  of  our  fore 
fathers,  well  stored  as  those  minds  were  with  hu 
man  and  divine  lore ;  but,  going  to  work  without 
a  scruple,  they  prepared  an  elaborate  scheme,  and 
fixed  the  1st  of  March  for  the  day  of  drawing,  — 
"or  sooner,  if  sooner  full."  It  was  not  full,  how 
ever,  nor  was  it  full  when  the  subject  next  came 
up.  Tkkets  were  sold  ;  committees  sat ;  Congress 
returned  to  the  subject  from  time  to  time ;  but 
what  with  the  incipient  depreciation  of  the  bills  of 


156  LECTURE    V. 

credit,  the  rising  prices  of  goods  and  provisions, 
and  the  incessant  calls  upon  every  purse  for  public 
and  private  purposes,  the  lottery  failed  to  commend 
itself  either  to  speculators  or  to  the  bulk  of  the  peo 
ple.  Some  good  Whigs  bought  tickets  from  prin 
ciple,  and,  like  many  of  the  good  Whigs  who  took 
the  bills  of  credit  for  the  same  reason,  lost  their 
money. 

In  the  same  November,  the  Treasury  was  di 
rected  to  make  preparations  for  a  new  issue  ;  and 
in  order  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  retail  trade,  it 
was  also  resolved  to  issue  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  bills  of  two  thirds,  one  third,  one  sixth, 
and  one  ninth  of  a  dollar.  Evident  as  it  ought 
now  to  have  been  that  nothing  but  taxation  could 
save  public  credit,  men  could  not  bend  their  minds 
to  the  necessity.  "  Do  you  think,  gentlemen,"  said 
a  member  of  Congress,  "  that  I  will  consent  to  load 
my  constituents  with  taxes,  when  we  can  send  to 
our  printer  and  get  a  wagon-load  of  money,  one 
quire  of  which  will  pay  for  the  whole  ?  "  It  was 
so  easy  a  way  of  making  money,  that  men  seemed 
to  be  getting  into  the  humor  of  it. 

The  campaign  of  1777,  like  the  campaign  of 
1776,  was  fought  upon  paper-money  without  any 
material  depreciation.  The  bills  could  never  be 
signed  as  fast  as  they  were  called  for.  But  this 
could  not  last.  The  public  mind  was  growing 
anxious.  Extensive  interests,  in  some  cases  whole 
fortunes,  were  becoming  involved  in  the  question 


FINANCES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     157 

of  ultimate  payment.  The  alarm  gained  upon 
Congress.  Burgoyne,  indeed,  was  conquered ;  but 
a  more  powerful,  a  more  insidious  enemy,  one  to 
whom  Congress  itself  had  opened  the  gate,  was 
already  within  the  works  and  fast  advancing  to 
wards  the  heart  of  the  citadel.  The  depreciation 
had  reached  four  for  one,  and  there  was  but  one 
way  to  prevent  it  from  going  lower.  The  delib 
erations  were  long  and  anxious.  Thus  far  the 
public  faith  had  supported  the  war.  But,  it  was 
said,  the  quantity  of  the  money  for  which  this  faith 
stood  pledged  already  exceeded  the  demands  of 
commerce,  and  hence  its  value  was  proportionably 
reduced.  Add  to  this  the  arts  of  open  and  secret 
enemies,  the  avidity  of  professed  friends,  and  the 
scarcity  of  foreign  commodities,  and  it  seemed  easy 
to  account  for  the  depreciation.  "  The  conse 
quences  were  equally  obvious  and  alarming,"  — 
"  depravity  of  morals,  decay  of  public  virtue,  a 
precarious  supply  for  the  war,  debasement  of  the 
public  faith,  injustice  to  individuals,  and  the  de 
struction  of  the  safety,  honor,  and  independence 
of  the  United  States."  But  u  a  reasonable  and  ef 
fectual  remedy"  was  still  within  reach;  and  there 
fore,  "  with  mature  deliberation  and  the  most  ear 
nest  solicitude,"  Congress  recommended  the  rais 
ing  by  taxes  on  the  different  States,  in  proportion 
to  their  population,  five  millions  of  dollars  in  quar 
terly  payments,  for  the  service  of  1778. 

But  having  explained,  justified,  and  recommend- 


158  LECTURE    V. 

ed,  its  power  ceased.  Like  the  Confederation,  it 
had  no  right  of  coercion,  no  machinery  of  its  own 
for  acting  upon  the  States.  And,  unhappily,  the 
States,  pressed  by  their  individual  wants,  feeling 
keenly  their  individual  sacrifices  and  dangers,  failed 
to  see  that  the  nearest  road  to  relief  lay  through 
the  odious  portal  of  taxation.  Had  the  mysterious 
words  that  Dante  read  on  the  gates  of  hell  been 
written  on  it,  they  could  not  have  shrunk  from 
it  with  a  more  instinctive  feeling :  — 

"  Lasciate  ogui  speranza  voi  ch'  entrate." 
"  All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  in  !  " 

Some  States  paid,  some  did  not  pay.  The  sums 
that  came  in  were  wholly  insufficient  to  relieve 
the  actual  pressure ;  and  that  pressure,  unrelieved, 
grew  daily  more  severe.  Congress  had  tried  the 
regulating  of  prices,  —  it  had  tried  loans, — it  had 
tried  a  lottery ;  and  now  it  was  forced  back  again 
to  its  earliest  and  most  dangerous  expedient,  paper- 
money.  New  floods  poured  forth,  and  the  parched 
earth  drank  them  greedily  up.  One  may  almost 
fancy,  as  he  looks  at  the  tables,  that  he  sees  the 
shadowy  form  of  a  sickly  Credit  tottering  feebly 
forth  to  catch  a  gleam  of  sunshine,  a  breath  of  pure 
air,  while  myriads  of  little  sprites,  each  bearing  in 
his  hand  an  emblazoned  scroll  with  "  Deprecia 
tion  "  written  upon  it  in  big  yellow  letters,  dance 
merrily  around  him,  thrusting  the  bitter  record  in 
his  face,  whichever  way  he  turns,  with  gibes  and 


FINANCES  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     159 

taunts  and  demoniac  laughter.  But  his  course 
was  almost  ended ;  the  grave  was  nigh,  an  unhon- 
ored  grave  ;  and  as  eager  hands  heaped  the  earth 
upon  his  faded  form,  a  stern  voice  bade  men  re 
member  that  they  who  strayed  from  the  path  as  he 
had  done,  must  sooner  or  later  find  a  grave  like  his. 
It  was  not  without  a  desperate  struggle  that 
Congress  saw  the  rapid  decline  and  shameful  death 
of  its  currency.  The  ground  was  fought  manfully, 
foot  by  foot,  inch  by  inch.  The  idea  that  money 
derived  its  value  from  acts  of  government  seemed 
to  have  taken  deep  hold  of  men's  minds,  and  their 
policy  was  in  perfect  harmony  with  their  belief. 
In  January,  1776,  it  had  been  solemnly  resolved 
that  everybody  who  refused  to  accept  the  Conti 
nental  bills,  or  did  anything  to  obstruct  the  circu 
lation  of  them,  should,  upon  due  conviction,  "  be 
deemed,  published,  and  treated  as  an  enemy  of  his 
country,  and  be  precluded  from  all  trade  or  in 
tercourse  with  the  inhabitants  of  these  Colonies." 
And  to  enforce  it,  there  were  Committees  of  In 
spection,  whose  power  seldom  lay  idle  in  their 
hands,  whose  eyes  were  never  sealed  in  slumber. 
In  this  work,  which  seemed  good  in  their  eyes,  the 
State  Assemblies,  and  Conventions,  and  Commit 
tees  of  Safety,  joined  heart  and  hand  with  Con 
gress.  Tender-laws  were  tried,  and  the  relentless 
hunt  of  creditor  after  debtor  became  a  flight  of  the 
recusant  creditor  from  the  debtor  eager  to  wipe 
out  his  responsibility  for  gold  or  silver  with  a  ream 


160  LECTURE   V. 

or  two  of  paper.  Limitation  of  prices  was  tried, 
and  produced  its  natural  results,  —  discontent,  in 
sufficient  supplies,  heavy  losses.  Threatening  re 
solves  were  renewed,  and  fell  powerless.  It  was 
hoped  that  some  relief  might  come  from  the  sales 
of  confiscated  property  ;  but  property  changed 
hands,  and  the  Treasury  was  none  the  better  off; 
just  as  in  France,  a  few  years  later,  the  whole 
landed  property  of  the  kingdom  changed  hands, 
and  left  the  government  assignats  what  it  found 
them,  —  bits  of  waste  paper. 

Meanwhile  speculation  ran  riot.  Every  form  of 
wastefulness  and  extravagance  prevailed  in  town 
and  country ;  nowhere  more  than  at  Philadelphia, 
under  the  very  eyes  of  Congress  ;  luxury  of  dress, 
luxury  of  equipage,  luxury  of  the  table.  We  are 
told  of  one  entertainment  at  which  eight  hundred 
pounds  were  spent  in  pastry.  As  I  read  the  pri 
vate  letters  of  those  days,  I  sometimes  feel  as  a 
man  might  feel  if  permitted  to  look  down  upon  a 
foundering  ship  whose  crew  were  preparing  for 
death  by  breaking  open  the  steward's  room  and 
drinking  themselves  into  madness. 

An  earnest  appeal  was  made  to  the  States.  The 
sober  eloquence  and  profound  statesmanship  of 
John  Jay  were  employed  to  bring  the  subject  be 
fore  the  country  in  its  true  light  and  manifold 
bearings ;  the  state  of  the  Treasury,  the  results  of 
loans  and  of  taxes,  and  the  nature  and  amount  of 
the  obligations  incurred.  The  natural  value  and 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.      161 

wealth  of  the  country  were  held  up  to  view  as  the 
foundations  on  which  Congress  had  undertaken  to 
construct  a  system  of  public  finances,  beginning 
with  bills  of  credit,  because  there  was  no  nation 
they  could  have  borrowed  of,  coming  next  to  loans, 
and  thus  "  unavoidably  creating  a  public  debt ;  a 
debt  of  $159,948,880,  in  emissions;  $7,545,196$-$, 
in  money  borrowed  before  the  1st  of  March,  1778, 
with  the  interest  payable  in  France  ;  $26,188,909, 
money  borrowed  since  the  1st  of  March,  1778, 
with  interest  due  in  America;  about  $4,000,000, 
of  money  due  abroad."  The  taxes  had  brought 
in  only  $8,027,560  ;  so  that  all  the  money 
supplied  to  Congress  by  the  people  was  but 
$36,761,665|f 

"  Judge,  then,  of  the  necessity  of  emissions,  and 
learn  from  whom  and  from  whence  that  neces 
sity  arose.  We  are  also  to  inform  you  that  on 
Wednesday,  the  first  day  of  September  instant,  we 
resolved  that  we  would  on  no  account  whatever 
emit  more  bills  of  credit  than  to  make  the  whole 
amount  of  such  bills  two  hundred  million  dol 
lars  ;  and  as  the  sum  emitted  and  in  circulation 
amounted  to  $159,948,880,  and  the  sum  of 
$40,051,120  remained  to  complete  the  two  hun 
dred  million  above  mentioned,  we,  on  the  third 
day  of  September  instant,  further  resolved  that 
we  would  emit  such  part  only  of  the  said  sum  as 
should  be  absolutely  necessary  for  public  exigen 
cies  before  adequate  supplies  could  otherwise  be 


1C2  LECTURE   V. 

obtained,  relying  for  such  supplies  on  the  exertions 
of  the  several  States." 

Coming  to  the  depreciation,  he  reduces  the 
causes  to  three  kinds  :  natural,  or  artificial,  or  both. 
The  natural  cause  was  the  excess  of  the  supply 
over  the  demands  of  commerce  ;  the  artificial  cause 
was  a  distrust  of  the  ability  or  inclination  of  the 
United  States  to  redeem  their  bills  ;  and  assuming 
that  both  causes  have  combined  in  producing  the 
depreciation  of  the  Continental  money,  he  proceeds 
to  prove  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  ability 
of  the  United  States  to  pay  their  debt,  and  none  of 
their  inclination.  Under  the  head  of  inclination 
he  divides  his  argument  into  three  parts :  — 

First,  Whether,  and  in  what  manner,  the  faith 
of  the  United  States  has  been  pledged  for  the  re 
demption  of  their  bills. 

Second,  Whether  they  have  put  themselves  in  a 
political  capacity  to  redeem  them. 

Third,  Whether,  admitting  the  two  former  pro 
positions,  there  is  any  reason  to  apprehend  a  wan 
ton  violation  of  the  public  faith.  The  idea  that 
Congress  can  destroy  the  money,  because  Congress 
made  it,  is  treated  with  scorn. 

"  A   bankrupt,    faithless   republic  would   be    a 

novelty  in  the  political  world The  pride 

of  America  revolts  from  the  idea ;  her  citizens 
know  for  what  purposes  these  emissions  were  made, 
and  have  repeatedly  plighted  their  faith  for  the  re 
demption  of  them ;  they  are  to  be  found  in  every 


FINANCES   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     163 

man's  possession,  and  every  man  is  interested  in 
their  being  redeemed Provide  for  continu 
ing  your  armies  in  the  field  till  victory  and  peace 
shall  lead  them  home,  and  avoid  the  reproach  of 
permitting  the  currency  to  depreciate  in  your 
hands,  when  by  yielding  a  part  to  taxes  and  loans, 
the  whole  might  have  been  appreciated  and  pre 
served.  Humanity  as  well  as  justice  makes  this 
demand  upon  you ;  the  complaints  of  ruined  wid- 
•ows  and  the  cries  of  fatherless  children,  whose 
whole  support  has  been  placed  in  your  hands  and 
melted  awav,  have  doubtless  reached  you ;  take 
care  that  they  ascend  no  higher!  .  .  .  Determine 
to  finish  the  contest  as  you  began  it,  honestly  and 
gloriously.  Let  it  never  be  said  that  America  had 
no  sooner  become  independent  than  she  became 
insolvent." 

But  it  was  not  only  the  Continental  money  that 
was  blocking  up  the  channels  through  which  a 
sound  currency  would  have  carried  vigor  and 
health.  The  States  had  their  debts  and  their  pa 
per-money  too,  —  wheel  within  wheel  of  compli 
cated,  desperate  insolvency.  The  two  hundred 
millions  had  been  issued  and  spent.  There  was 
no  money  to  send  to  Washington  for  his  army,  and 
he  was  compelled  for  a  while  to  support  them  by 
seizing  the  articles  he  needed,  and  giving  certifi 
cates  in  return.  The  States  were  called  upon  for 
specific  supplies,  beef,  pork,  and  flour,  —  a  method 
so  expensive,  irregular,  and  partial,  that  it  was 


164  LECTURE    V. 

soon  abandoned.  One  chance  remained:  to  cal) 
in  the  old  money  by  taxes,  and  burn  it  as  soon  a* 
it  was  in  ;  then  to  issue  a  new  paper,  —  one  of  the 
new  for  every  twenty  of  the  old ;  and  when  the 
whole  of  the  old  was  cancelled,  to  issue  only  ten 
millions  of  the  new,  —  four  millions  of  it  subject  to 
the  order  of  Congress,  and  the  remaining  six  to  be 
divided  among  the  States:  the  whole  redeemable 
in  specie  within  six  years,  and  bearing  till  then  an 
interest  of  five  per  cent,  payable  in  specie  annu 
ally,  or  on  redemption,  at  the  option  of  the  holder. 
By  this  skilful  change  of  base  it  was  hoped  that  a 
bold  front  could  still  be  presented  to  the  enemy, 
and  the  field,  which  had  been  so  long  and  so  obsti 
nately  contested,  be  finally  won. 

But  the  day  of  expedients  was  past.  The  zeal 
which  had  blazed  forth  with  such  energy  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war  was  fast  sinking  to  a  fitful, 
smouldering  flame.  Individual  interests  were  again 
taking  the  precedence  of  general  interests.  The 
moral  sense  of  the  people  had  contracted  a  deadly 
taint  from  daily  contact  with  corruption..  The 
spirit  of  gambling,  confined  in  the  beginning  and 
lost  to  the  eye,  like  Le  Sage's  Devil,  had  swollen 
to  its  full  proportions,  and,  in  the  garb  of  specula 
tion,  was  undermining  the  foundations  of  society. 
Rogues  were  growing  rich ;  the  honest  men,  who 
were  not  already  poor,  were  daily  growing  poor. 
The  laws  that  had  been  made  in  the  view  of  prop 
ping  the  currency,  had  served  only  to  countenance 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     165 

unscrupulous  men  in  paying  their  debts  at  a  dis 
count  ruinous  to  the  creditor.  The  laws  against 
forestallers  and  engrossers,  who,*  it  was  currently 
believed,  were  leagued  against  both  army  and 
country,  were  powerless,  as  such  laws  always  are. 
Even  Washington  wished  for  a  gallows  as  high  as 
Haman's  to  hang  them  on  ;  but  the  army  was  kept 
starving  none  the  less. 

The  seasons  themselves  —  God's  visible  agents 
—  seemed  to  combine  against  our  cause.  The 
years  1779  and  1780  were  years  of  small  crops. 
The  winter  of  1780  was  severe  far  beyond  the 
common  severity  even  of  a  northern  winter.  Pro 
visions  were  scarce,  suffering  universal.  Farmers, 
as  if  forgetting  their  dependence  on  rain  and  sun 
shine,  had  planted  less  than  usual,  —  some  from 
disaffection,  some  because  they  were  irritated  at 
having  to  give  up  their  corn  and  cattle  for  worth 
less  bills,  and  certificates  which  might  prove  equal 
ly  worthless.  Some,  who  were  within  reach  of 
the  enemy,  preferred  to  sell  to  them,  for  they  paid 
in  silver  and  gold.  There  were  riots  in  Philadel 
phia,  and  they  were  put  down  at  the  point  of  the 
sword.  There  was  mutiny  in  the  army,  and  this, 
too,  was  put  down  by  the  strong  hand,  —  though 
the  fearful  sufferings  which  bad  caused  it  almost 
justified  it  in  the  eye  of  sober  reason. 

It  is  easy  to  see  why  farmers  should  have  been 
loath  to  raise  more  than  they  needed  for  their  own 
use,  and  why  merchants  should  have  been  unwill- 


1G6  LECTURE  V. 

ing  to  lay  in  stores  which  they  might  be  compelled 
to  sell  at  prices  so  truly  nominal  that  the  money 
which  they  received  would  often  sink  to  half  they 
had  taken  it  for  before  they  were  able  to  pass  it. 
But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  see  why  this  wretched  sub 
stitute  for  values  should  ha.ve  circulated  so  freely 
to  the  very  last.  Even  at  two  hundred  for  one, 
with  the  knowledge  that  the  next  twenty-four 
hours  might  make  that  two  hundred  two  hundred 
and  fifty,  or  even  more,  without  the  slightest  hope 
that  it  would  ever  be  redeemed  at  its  nominal 
value,  it  would  still  buy  everything  that  was  to  be 
bought,  —  provisions,  goods,  houses,  lands,  even 
hard  money  itself.  Down  to  its  last  gasp  there 
were  speculations  afoot  to  take  advantage  of  the 
differences  in  the  degree  of  its  worthlessness  at  dif 
ferent  places,  and  buy  it  up  in  one  place  to  sell  it 
at  another,  —  to  buy  it  in  Philadelphia  at  two  hun 
dred  and  twenty-five  for  one,  and  sell  it  in  Boston 
at  seventy-five  for  one.  It  was  possible,  if  the  ball 
passed  quickly  from  hand  to  hand,  that  some  might 
gain  ;  it  was  very  manifest  that  some  must  lose  ; 
and  here  outcrops  that  pernicious  doctrine,  that 
true,  life-giving,  health-diffusing  commerce  consists 
in  stripping  one  to  clothe  another. 

And  thus  we  reach  the  memorable  year  1781, 
the  great,  decisive  year  of  the  war.  While  Greene 
was  fighting  Cornwallis  and  Rawdon,  and  Wash 
ington  was  watching  eagerly  for  an  opportunity  to 
strike  at  Clinton,  Congress  was  busy  making  up  its 


FINANCES   OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     167 

accounts.  One  circumstance  told  for  it.  There 
was  no  longer  the  same  dearth  of  gold  and  silver 
which  had  embarrassed  commerce  so  much  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war.  A  gainful  intercourse  was 
now  opened  with  the  West  Indies.  The  Frencli 
army  and  the  French  fleet  were  here,  and  hard 
money  with  them.  Louis-d'ors  and  livres,  and 
Spanish  dollars,  —  how  welcome  must  their  pleas 
ant  faces  have  looked,  after  this  long,  long  absence ! 
With  what  a  thrill  must  the  hand  which  for  years 
had  touched  nothing  but  Continental  bills  have 
closed  upon  solid  gold  and  silver !  It  is  easy  to  con 
ceive  that  a  new  spirit  must  soon  have  manifested 
itself  in  the  wide  circle  of  contractors  and  agents, 
—  that  shopkeepers  must  speedily  have  discovered 
that  their  business  was  shifting  its  ground  as  they 
obtained  a  reliable  standard  for  counting  their 
losses  and  gains,  —  that  every  branch  of  trade 
must  have  felt  a  new  vigor  diffusing  itself  through 
its  veins.  But  it  is  equally  evident,  that,  while  the 
gold  and  silver  which  flowed  in  upon  them  from 
these  sources  strengthened  the  people  for  the  work 
they  were  to  do  and  the  burdens  they  were  to 
bear,  the  comparisons  they  were  daily  making  be 
tween  fluctuating  paper  and  steadfast  metal  were 
not  of  a  nature  to  strengthen  their  faith  in  money 
that  could  be  made  by  a  turn  of  the  printing-press 
and  a  few  strokes  of  the  pen. 

Another  circumstance   told  for  Congress,   too. 
The  accession  of  Maryland  had  fulfilled  the  condi- 


168  LECTURE    V. 

tions  for  the  acceptance  of  the  Confederation  so 
long  held  in  abeyance,  and  the  finances  were  taken 
from  a  board,  and  intrusted  to  the  hands  of  a  skil 
ful  and  energetic  financier.  Robert  Morris,  who 
had  protested  energetically  against  the  tender-laws, 
made  specie  payments  the  condition  of  his  accept 
ance  of  office  ;  and  on  the  22d  of  May,  though  not 
without  a  struggle,  Congress  resolved  "  that  the 
whole  debts  already  due  by  the  United  States  be 
liquidated  as  soon  as  may  be  to  their  specie  value, 
and  funded,  if  agreeable  to  the  creditors,  as  a  loan 
upon  interest;  that  the  States  be  severally  informed 
that  the  calculations  of  the  expenses  of  the  present 
campaign  are  made  in  solid  coin,  and  therefore 
that  the  requisitions  from  them  respectively,  being 
grounded  on  those  calculations,  must  be  complied 
with  in  such  manner  as  effectually  to  answer  the 
purpose  designed ;  that,  experience  having  evinced 
the  inefficacy  of  all  attempts  to  support  the  credit 
of  paper  money  by  compulsory  acts,  it  is  recom 
mended  to  such  States,  where  laws  making  paper 
bills  a  tender  yet  exist,  to  repeal  the  same." 

Another  public  body,  the  Supreme  Executive 
Council  of  Pennsylvania,  dealt  paper  another  blow, 
fixing  the  ratio  at  which  it  was  to  be  received  in 
public  payments  at  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
for  one.  Circulation  ceased.  In  a  short  time  the 
money  that  had  been  carted  to  and  fro  in  reams 
disappeared  from  the  shop,  the  counting-room,  the 
market.  All  dealings  were  in  hard  money.  Gold 


FINANCES   OF   THE   REVOLUTION.      169 

and  silver  resumed  their  legitimate  sway,  and  men 
began  to  look  hopefully  forward  to  a  return  of 
economy,  frugality,  and  invigorating  commerce. 

The  Superintendent  of  Finance  entered  seri 
ously  upon  his  task.  One  great  obstacle  had  been 
removed ;  one  great  and  decisive  step  had  been 
made  towards  the  restoration  of  that  sense  of  se 
curity  without  which  industry  and  enterprise  are 
powerless.  As  a  merchant,  he  was  familiar  with 
the  resources  of  the  country  ;  as  a  member  of  Con 
gress,  he  was  familiar  with  the  wants  of  govern 
ment.  His  resources  were  taxes  and  loans  ;  his 
obligations,  an  old  debt  and  a  daily  expenditure. 
Opposed  as  he  was  to  the  irresponsible  currency 
which  had  brought  the  country  to  the  brink  of 
ruin,  he  was  a  believer  in  banks  and  bills  resting 
on  a  secure  basis.  One  of  his  earliest  measures 
was  to  prepare,  with  the  aid  of  his  Assistant-Super 
intendent,  Gouverneur  Morris,  a  plan  of  a  bank, 
which  soon  after,  with  the  sanction  of  Congress, 
went  into  operation  as  the  Bank  of  North  Ameri 
ca.  Small  as  the  capital  with  which  it  started 
was,  —  only  four  hundred  thousand  dollars,  —  its 
influence  was  immediately  felt  throughout  the  coun 
try.  It  gave  an  impulse  to  legitimate  enterprise 
which  had  long  been  wanting,  and  a  confidence  to 
buyer  and  seller  which  they  had  not  felt  since  the 
first  year  of  the  war.  In  his  public  operations  the 
Superintendent  used  it  freely,  and,  using  it  at  the 
same  time  wisely,  was  enabled  to  call  upon  it  for 


170  LECTURE    V. 

aid  to  the  full  extent  of  its  ability  without  impair 
ing  its  strength. 

Henceforth  the  financial  history  of  the  Revolu 
tion,  although  it  loses  none  of  its  importance,  loses 
much  of  its  narrative-interest.  No  longer  a  hand- 
to-hand  conflict  between  coin  and  paper,  —  no 
longer  the  melancholy  spectacle  of  wise  men  doing 
unwise  things,  and  honorable  men  doing  things 
which,  in  any  other  form,  they  would  have  been 
the  first  to  condemn  as  dishonorable,  —  it  still  con 
tinues  a  long,  a  wearisome,  and  often  a  mortifying 
struggle  ;  still  presents  the  sad  spectacle  of  men 
knowing  their  duty  and  refusing  to  do  it ;  knowing 
consequences,  and  yet  blindly  shutting  their  eyes 
to  them.  I  will  give  but  one  example. 

After  a  careful  estimate  for  the  operations  of 
1782,  Congress  had  called  upon  the  States  for  eight 
millions  of  dollars.  Up  to  January,  1783,  only  four 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  had  come  into  the 
Treasury.  Four  hundred  thousand  Treasury-notes 
were  almost  due  ;  the  funds  in  Europe  were  over 
drawn  to  the  amount  of  five  hundred  thousand  by 
the  sale  of  drafts.  But  Morris,  waiting  only  to 
cover  himself  by  a  special  authorization  of  Congress, 
made  fresh  sales  upon  the  hopes  of  the  Dutch 
loan  and  the  possibility  of  a  new  French  loan,  and 
still  held  on  —  as  cautiously  as  he  could,  but  ever 
boldly  and  skilfully  —  his  anxious  way  through 
the  rocks  and  shoals  that  menaced  him  on  every 
side.  He  was  rewarded,  as  faithful  servants  too 


FINANCES   OF   THE  DEVOLUTION.     17] 

often  are,  by  calumny  and  suspicion.  But  when 
men  came  to  look  closely  at  his  acts,  comparing  his 
means  with  his  wants,  and  the  expenditure  of  the 
Treasury  Board  with  the  expenditure  of  the  Fi 
nance  Office,  it  was  seen  and  acknowledged  that 
he  had  saved  the  country  thirteen  millions  a  year 
in  hard  money. 

And  now,  from  our  stand-point  of  the  Peace  of 
1783,  let  us  give  a  parting  glance  at  the  ground 
over  which  we  have  passed.  We  see  thirteen 
Colonies,  united  by  interest,  divided  by  habits, 
association,  and  tradition,  engaging  in  a  doubtful 
contest  with  one  of  the  most  powerful  and  ener 
getic  nations  that  ever  existed;  we  see  them 
begin,  as  men  always  do,  with  very  imperfect 
conceptions  of  the  time  it  would  last,  the  length 
to  which  it  would  carry  them,  or  the  sacrifices 
it  would  impose  ;  we  see  them  boldly  adopting 
some  measures,  timidly  shrinking  from  others, 
—  reasoning  justly  about  some  things,  reasoning 
falsely  about  things  equally  important,  —  endowed 
at  times  with  singular  foresight,  visited  at  times 
with  incomprehensible  blindness ;  boatmen  on  a 
mighty  river,  strong  themselves  and  resolute  and 
skilful,  plying  their  oars  manfully  from  first  to  last, 
but  borne  onward  by  a  current  which  no  human 
science  could  measure,  no  human  strength  could 
resist. 

They  knew  that  the  resources  of  the  country 
were  exhaustless;  and  they  threw  themselves 


172  LECTURE   V. 

upon  those  resources  in  the  only  way  by  which 
they  could  reach  them.  Their  bills  of  credit  were 
the  offspring  of  enthusiasm  and  faith.  The  enthu 
siasm  grew  chill,  the  faith  failed.  With  a  little 
more  enthusiasm,  the  people  would  cheerfully  have 
submitted  to  taxation  ;  with  a  little  more  faith,  the 
Congress  would  have  taxed  them.  In  the  end, 
the  people  paid  for  the  shortcomings  of  their 
enthusiasm  by  seventy  millions  of  indirect  taxa 
tion,  —  taxation  through  depreciation  ;  the  Con 
gress  paid  for  the  shortcomings  of  its  faith  by  the 
loss  of  confidence  and  respect.  The  war  left  the 
country  with  a  Federal  debt  of  seventy  million 
dollars,  and  State  debts  of  nearly  twenty-six  mil 
lions. 

Could  this  have  been  avoided?  Could  they 
have  done  otherwise  ?  It  is  easy,  when  the  battle 
is  won,  to  tell  how  victory  might  have  been  bought 
cheaper,  —  when  the  campaign  is  ended,  to  show 
what  might  perhaps  have  brought  it  to  an  earlier 
and  more  glorious  close.  It  is  easy  for  us,  with 
the  whole  field  before  us,  to  see  that  from  the 
beginning,  from  the  very  first  start,  although  the 
formula  was  Taxation,  the  principle  was  Indepen 
dence;  but  before  we  venture  to  pass  sentence 
upon  the  shortcomings  of  our  fathers,  ought  we  not 
to  pause  and  dwell  awhile  upon  our  own,  —  we 
who,  in  the  fiercer  contest  through  which  we  are 
passing,  have  so  long  failed  to  see,  that,  while  the 
formula  is  Secession,  the  principle  is  Slavery  f 


LECTURE    VI. 

THE  DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

WHEN  a  European  speaks  about  the  Ameri 
can  Revolution,  he  speaks  of  it  as  the  work 
of  Washington  and  Franklin.  These  two  names 
embody  for  his  mind  all  the  phases  of  the  contest 
and  explain  its  result.  The  military  genius  of 
Washington,  going  hand  in  hand  with  the  civil 
genius  of  Franklin,  fill  the  foreground  of  his  pic 
ture.  He  has  heard  of  other  names  and  may  re 
member  some  of  them :  but  these  are  the  only  two 
which  have  taken  their  place  in  his  memory,  at  the 
side  of  the  great  names  of  European  history. 

In  part  this  is  owing  to  the  importance  which  all 
Europeans  attach  to  the  French  alliance  as  one  of 
the  chief  causes  of  our  success.  For  then,  as  now, 
France  held  a  place  among  the  great  powers  of 
the  world  which  gave  importance  to  all  her  move 
ments.  With  direct  access  to  two  of  the  principal 
theatres  of  European  strife  and  easy  access  to  the 
third,  she  never  raised  her  arm  without  drawing 
immediate  attention.  If  less  powerful  than  Eng 
land  on  the  ocean,  she  was  more  powerful  there 


174  LECTURE   VI. 

than  any  other  nation ;  and  even  England's  supe 
riority  was  often  and  sometimes  successfully  con 
tested.  The  adoption  by  such  a  power  of  the  cause 
of  a  people  so  obscure  as  the  people  of  the  "  Thir 
teen  Colonies  "  then  were,  was,  in  th«3  opinion  of 
European  statesmen,  decisive  of  its  success.  The 
fact  of  our  actual  poverty  was  known  to  all ;  few, 
if  any,  knew  that  we  possessed  exhaustless  sources 
of  wealth.  Our  weakness  was  on  the  surface ; 
palpable,  manifest,  forcing  itself  upon  attention ; 
our  strength  lay  out  of  sight,  in  rich  veins,  which 
none  but  eyes  familiar  with  their  secret  windings 
could  trace.  Thus  the  French  alliance,  as  the 
European  interpreted  it,  was  the  alliance  of  wealth 
with  poverty,  of  strength  with  weakness  ;  a  mag 
nanimous  recognition  of  efforts  which,  without  that 
recognition,  would  have  been  vain.  What,  then, 
must  have  been  the  persuasive  powers,  the  com 
manding  genius  of  the  man  who  procured  that 
recognition  ? 

Partly,  also,  this  opinion  is  owing  to  the  per 
sonal  character  and  personal  position  of  Franklin. 
Franklin  was  pre-eminently  a  wise  man,  wise  in 
the  speculative  science  and  wise  in  the  practical  art 
of  life.  Something  of  the  maturity  of  age  seems 
to  have  tempered  the  liveliest  sallies  of  his  youth ; 
and  much  of  the  vivacity  of  youth  mingles  with 
the  sober  wisdom  of  his  age.  Thoughtful  and 
self-controlling  at  twenty,  at  seventy  his  ripe  expe 
rience  was  warmed  by  a  genial  glow.  He  entered 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     175 

upon  life  with  the  feeling  that  he  had  a  part  to  per 
form,  and  the  conviction  that  his  happiness  would 
depend  upon  his  performing  it  well.  What  that 
part  was  to  be  was  his  earliest  study ;  and  a  social 
temperament,  combining  with  a  sound  judgment, 
quickly  taught  him  that  the  happiness  of  the  in 
dividual  is  inseparably  connected  with  the  happi 
ness  of  the  species.  Thus  life  became  his  study 
as  a  condition  of  happiness ;  man  and  nature,  as 
the  means  of  obtaining  it.  He  sought  to  control 

O  O 

his  passions  as  he  sought  to  control  the  lightning, 
that  he  might  strip  them  of  their  power  to  harm. 
Sagacious  in  the  study  of  causes,  he  was  still 
more  sagacious  in  tracing  their  connection  with 
effects  ;  and  his  speculations  often  lose  somewhat 
of  their  grandeur  by  the  simple  and  unpretending 
directness  with  which  he  adapts  them  to  the  com 
mon  understanding  and  makes  them  minister  to 
the  common  wants  of  life.  The  ambition  which 
quickened  his  early  exertions  met  an  early  reward. 
He  was  ambitious  to  write  well,  and  he  became 
one  of  the  best  writers  in  our  language.  He  was 
ambitious  of  knowledge,  and  he  laid  it  up  in  such 
stores  that  men  sought  his  conversation  in  order  to 
learn  from  him.  He  was  ambitious  of  pecuniary 
independence,  and  he  accumulated  a  fortune  that 
made  h'm  master  of  his  time  and  actions.  He  was 
ambitious  of  influence,  and  he  obtained  a  rare  con 
trol  over  the  thoughts  and  the  passions  of  men.  He 
was  ambitious  of  fame,  and  he  connected  his  name 


176  LECTURE    VI. 

with  the  boldest  and  grandest   discovery   of  his 
age. 

Living  thus  in  harmony  with  himself,  he  enjoyed 
the  rare  privilege  of  living  in  equal  harmony  with 
the  common  mind  and  the  advanced  mind  of  his 
contemporaries.  He  entered  into  every-day  wants 
and  feelings  as  if  he  had  never  looked  beyond 
them,  and  thus  made  himself  the  counsellor  of 
the  people.  He  appreciated  the  higher  wants  and 
nobler  aspirations  of  our  nature,  and  thus  became 
the  companion  and  friend  of  the  philosopher.  His 
interest  in  the  present,  and  it  was  a  deep  and  ac 
tive  interest,  did  not  prevent  him  from  looking  for 
ward  with  kindling  sympathies  to  the  future. 
Like  the  diligent  husbandman  of  whom  Cicero 
tells  us,  he  could  plant  trees  without  expecting  to 
see  their  fruit.  If  he  detected  folly  with  a  keen 
eye,  he  did  not  revile  it  with  a  bitter  heart.  Hu 
man  weakness,  in  his  estimate  of  life,  formed  an 
inseparable  part  of  human  nature,  the  extremes 
of  virtue  often  becoming  the  starting-points  of 
vice  ;  better  treated,  all  of  them,  by  playful  ridi 
cule  than  by  stern  reproof.  He  might  never  have 
gone  with  Howard  in  search  of  abuses ;  but  he 
would  have  drawn  such  pictures  of  those  near 
home,  as  would  have  made  some  laugh  and  some 
blush  and  all  unite  heartily  in  doing  away  with 
them.  With  nothing  of  the  ascetic,  he  could  im 
pose  self-denial  and  bear  it.  Like  Erasmus,  he 
may  not  have  aspired  to  become  a  martyr ;  but  in 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     177 

those  long  voyages  and  journeys,  which,  in  his  in 
firm  old  age,  he  undertook  in  his  country's  service, 
there  was  much  of  the  sublimest  spirit  of  martyr 
dom.  His  philosophy,  a  philosophy  of  observation 
and  induction,  had  taught  him  caution  in  the  for 
mation  of  opinions,  and  candor  in  his  judgments. 
With  distinct  ideas  upon  most  subjects,  he  was 
never  so  wedded  to  his  own  views  as  to  think  that 
all  who  did  not  see  things  as  he  did  must  be  wil 
fully  blind.  His  justly  tempered  faculties  lost  none 
of  their  serene  activity  or  gentle  philanthropy  by 
age.  Hamilton  himself,  at  thirty,  did  not  labor 
with  more  earnestness  at  the  formation  of  the  Con 
stitution,  than  Franklin  at  eighty-one;  and  as  if 
in  solemn  record  of  his  own  interpretation  of  it, 
his  last  public  act,  with  eternity  full  in  view,  was 
to  head  a  memorial  to  Congress  for  the  abolition 
of  the  slave-trade. 

That  such  a  man  should  produce  a  strong  impres 
sion  upon  the  excitable  mind  of  France  must  be 
evident  to  every  one  who  knows  how  excitable 
that  mind  is.  But  to  understand  his  public  as 
well  as  his  personal  position,  not  so  much  at  the 
French  court  as  at  the  court  of  French  opinion, 
we  must,  go  back  a  dozen  years  and  see  what  that 
opinion  had  been  since  the  peace  of  1763. 

The  treaty  of  Paris,  like  all  treaties  between 
equals  founded  upon  the  temporary  superiority  of 
one  over  the  other,  had  deeply  wounded,  not  the 
vanity  only,  but  the  pride  of  France.  Humbled 

8*  L 


178  LECTURE   VI. 

in  the  eyes  of  her  rival,  humbled  in  the  eyes  of 
Europe,  she  was  still  more  profoundly  humbled  in 
her  own.  A  barbed  and  venomous  arrow  had  been 
haughtity  left  to  rankle  in  the  wound.  For  high- 
minded  Frenchmen,  it  was  henceforth  the  wisdom. 
as  well  as  the  duty  of  France  to  prepare  the  means 
and  hasten,  the  hour  of  revenge.  It  was  then  that 
the  eyes  of  French  statesmen  were  first  opened  to 
the  true  position  of  the  American  Colonies.  It  was 
then  that  they  first  saw  how  much  the  prosperity  of 
the  parent  state  depended  upon  the  sure  and  con 
stant  flow  of  wealth  and  strength  from  this  exhaust- 
less  source.  Then,  too,  they  first  saw  that  in  obe 
dience  to  the  same  law  by  which  they  had  grown 
into  strength,  these  Colonies,  in  due  time,  must 
grow  into  independence  ;  and  in  this  independence, 
in  this  severing  of  ties  which  they  foresaw  English 
pride  would  cling  to,  long  after  English  avidity 
had  stripped  them  of  their  natural  strength,  there 
was  the  prospect  of  full  and  sweet  revenge. 

Scarce  a  twelvemonth  had  passed  from  the  sign 
ing  of  the  treaty  of  Paris,  when  the  first  French 
emissary,  an  officer  of  the  French  navy,  was  al 
ready  at  his  work  in  the  Colonies.  Passing  to  and 
fro,  travelling  here  and  there,  moving  from  place 
to  place  as  any  common  traveller  might  have  done, 
his  eyes  and  his  ears  were  ever  open,  his  note-book 
was  ever  in  his  hand,  and,  without  awakening  the 
suspicions  of  England,  the  first  steps  in  a  work  to 
which  the  Duke  of  Ohoiseul  looked  forward  as  the 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     179 

crowning  glory  of  his  administration  were  wisely 
and  surely  taken.  They  were  promptly  followed 
up.  The  French  Ambassador  in  England  estab 
lished  relations  with  Colonial  agents  in  London, 
which  enabled  him  to  follow  the  progress  of  the 
growing  discontent  and  anticipate  the  questions 
which  must  soon  be  brought  forward  for  decision. 
Franklin's  examination  before  the  House  of  Com 
mons  became  the  text  of  an  elaborate  despatch, 
harmonizing  with  the  report  of  his  secret  agent, 
and  opening  a  prospect  which  even  the  weary  eyes 
of  Louis  XV.  could  not  look  upon  without  some 
return  of  the  spirit  that  had  won  for  his  youth  the 
long  forfeited  title  of  the  Well-beloved!  It  was 
not  the  first  time  that  the  name  of  the  great  phi 
losopher  had  been  heard  in  the  council-chamber 
of  Versailles.  But  among  the  secret  agents  of 
France,  we  now  meet  for  the  first  time  the  name 
of  De  Kalb,  a  name  consecrated  in  American  his 
tory  by  the  life  that  he  laid  down  for  us  on  the  fatal 
field  of  Camden.  Scarce  a  step  was  taken  by  the 
English  ministry  that  was  not  instantly  communi 
cated  by  the  Ambassador  in  London  to  the  French 
Minister  at  Versailles,  with  speculations,  always  in 
genious,  often  profound,  upon  its  probable  results. 
Scarce  a  stop  was  taken  in  the  Colonies  without  at 
tracting  the  instant  attention  of  the  French  agent. 
Never  were  events  more  closely  studied  or  their 
character  better  understood.  When  troops  were 
sent  to  Boston,  the  English  ministry  was  not  with- 


180  LECTURE    VI. 

out  serious  apprehensions  of  resistance.  But  when 
the  tidings  of  their  peaceful  landing  came,  while  the 
English  were  exulting  in  their  success,  the  French 
Ambassador  rejoiced  that  the  wisdom  of  the  Colo 
nial  leaders  had  withheld  them  from  a  form  of  op 
position  for  which  they  were  not  yet  ready.  The 
English  ministry  was  preparing  to  enter  upon  a 
system  of  coercion  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 
"  If  the  Colonists  submit  under  the  pressure,"  said 
Choiseul,  "  it  will  only  be  in  appearance  and  for  a 
short  time." 

Meanwhile  his  active  brain  was  teeming  with 
projects:  the  letters  of  his  agents  were  teeming 
with  suggestions.  Frances  counsels  caution,  dreads 
the  effects  of  hasty  measures;  for  the  Colonists 
have  not  yet  learnt  to  look  upon  France  as  a  friend, 
and  premature  action  might  serve  only  to  bind 
them  more  firmly  to  England.  Du  Chatelet  pro 
poses  that  France  and  Spain,  sacrificing  their  old 
colonial  system,  should  open  their  colonial  ports  to 
the  products  of  the  English  colonies ;  thus  inflict 
ing  a  fatal  blow  upon  England's  commerce,  while 
they  supplant  her  in  the  affections  of  the  Colonists. 
A  clerk  in  the  department  of  commerce  goes  still 
further,  advocating  a  full  emancipation  of  the 
French  colonies,  both  to  throw  off  a  useless  bur 
den  and  to  increase  the  irritation  of  the  English 

o 

colonies  by  the  spectacle  of  an  independence  which 
they  were  not  permitted  to  share. 

There  is  nothing  in  history  more   humiliating 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     181 

than  to  see  on  what  small  hinges  great  events 
sometimes  turn.  Of  all  the  disgraceful  intrigues 
of  a  palace  filled  with  intrigues  from  the  day  of  its 
foundation,  there  is  none  half  so  disgraceful  as 

o 

the  overthrow  of  the  Duke  of  Choiseul  in  1770. 
And  yet  vile  as  it  was  both  by  its  motive  and  by 
its  agents,  it  marks  an  important  point  in  the  pro 
gress  of  American  independence.     A  bow  more, 
a  sarcasm  less,  might  have  confirmed  the  power  of  a 
man,   whose  deep-rooted  hatred  of  England  was 
fast  hastening  to  its  natural  termination,  an  open 
rupture ;    and  a  premature   rupture    would  have 
brought  the  Colonists  into  the  field,  either  as  the 
subjects  of  England  or  as  the  allies  of  France.     To 
secure  the  dependence  of  the  Colonies,  England 
would  have  been  compelled  to  make  large  conces 
sions  ;    and    timely    concessions    might   have    put 
off  the  day  of  separation  for  another  century.     To 
secure  the  alliance  of  the  Colonies,  France  would 
have  been  compelled  to  take  upon  herself  the  bur 
den   of  the  war  ;    a  French   general  might  have 
led  our  armies ;  French  gold  might  have  paid  our 
troops ;  we  might  have  been  spared  the  sufferings  of 
Valley  Forge,  the  humiliation  of  bankruptcy ;  but 
where    would   have   been   the   wise   discipline   of 
adversity?  and,  if  great  examples  be  as  essential  to 
the  formation  of  national  as  of  individual  character, 
what  would  the  name  of  independence  have  been 
to  us,  without  the  example  of  our  Washington? 
French    diplomacy  had    little    to    do    with    the 


182  LECTURE    VI. 

American  events  of  the  next  five  years.  England, 
unconscious  how  near  she  had  been  to  a  new  wai 
with  her  old  enemy,  held  blindly  on  in  her  course 
of  irritation  and  oppression  ;  the  Colonies  contin 
ued  to  advance  by  sure  steps  from  resistance  by 
votes  and  resolves  to  resistance  by  the  sword. 
When  Louis  XVI.  ascended  the  throne  in  1774, 
and  Vergennes  received  the  portfolio  of  foreign 
affairs,  domestic  interests  pressed  too  hard  upon 
them  to  allow  of  their  resuming  at  once  the  vast 
plans  of  the  fallen  minister.  Unlike  that  minister, 
Vergennes,  a  diplomatist  by  profession,  preferred 
watching  and  waiting  events  to  the  hastening  or 
anticipating  them.  But  to  watch  and  wait  events 
like  those  which  were  then  passing  in  the  Colonies 
without  being  drawn  into  the  vortex  was  beyond 
the  power  of  even  his  well- trained  and  sagacious 
mind.  In  1775,  a  French  emissary  was  again 
taking  the  measure  of  American  perseverance ; 
French  ambassadors  were  again  bringing  forward 
American  questions  as  the  most  important  ques 
tions  of  their  correspondence.  That  expression 
which  has  been  put  into  so  many  mouths  as  a  sum 
ming  up  of  the  value  of  a  victory  was  applied  in 
substance  by  Vergennes  to  the  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill, — "Two  more  victories  of  this  kind,  and  the 
English  will  have  no  army  left  in  America." 

And  while  thus  tempted  by  this  proof  of  Amer 
ican  strength,  his  wavering  mind  was  irritated  by 
the  apprehension  of  some  sudden  outbreak  of 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     183 

English  arrogance  ;  for  the  Ambassador  wrote  that 
Whigs  and  Tories  might  yet  unite  in  a  war  against 
France  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  the  troubles  in 
the  Colonies,  —  and  no  Frenchman  had  forgotten 
that  England  began  the  war  of  1755  by  an  open 
violation  of  international  law,  by  seizing  three  hun 
dred  French  merchant  ships  and  casting  into  prison 
ten  thousand  French  sailors,  before  the  declaration 
of  hostilities.  Thus  events  prepared  the  way  for 
American  diplomacy  ;  and,  more  powerful  than  the 
prudence  of  Vergennes  or  the  pacific  longings  of 
Louis  XVI.,  compelled  them  to  decide  and  act, 
when  they  would  still  gladly  have  discussed  and 
waited. 

And,  moreover,  a  new  element  had  been  intro 
duced  into  the  councils  of  statesmen,  or,  rather,  an 
element  hitherto  circumscribed  and  resisted  had 
begun  to  act  with  irresistible  force.  Public  opin 
ion  speaking  through  the  press  by  eloquent  pens, 
through  coffee-houses  and  saloons  by  eloquent 
voices,  called  loudly  for  action  in  the  name  of  hu 
manity  and  in  the  still  more  exciting  name  of 
French  honor.  Little  as  most  Frenchmen  knew 
about  America,  they  knew  enough  about  England  to 
believe  that  in  her  disputes  with  other  nations  she 
was  apt  to  be  in  the  wrong ;  and  if  with  other  na 
tions,  why  not  with  her  own  colonies  ?  The  long 
ing  for  revenge  which  ever  since  the  treaty  of  Paris 
filled  some  corner  of  every  French  heart,  grew 
stronger  at  the  near  approach  of  so  abundant  a 


184  LECTURE    VI. 

harvest ;  nor  did  it  lose  any  of  its  sweetness  from 
the  reflection  that  their  enemy  himself  was  doing 
what  they  could  never  have  done  alone  to  prepare 
it  for  them. 

But  humanity,  too,  was  a  powerful  word.  Men 
could  not  read  Rousseau  without  being  led  to  think 
more  earnestly,  if  not  always  more  profoundly,  upon 
the  laws  of  social  organization.  They  could  not 
read  Voltaire  without  a  clearer  perception  of  abuses 
and  a  more  vigorous  contempt  for  the  systems 
which  had  put  the  many  into  the  hands  of  the  few 
to  be  butchered  or  butchers  at  their  will.  They 
could  not  read  Montesquieu  without  feeling  that 
there  was  a  future  in  store  for  them  for  which  the 
long  past  had  been  patiently  laboring,  and  longing, 
as  they  read,  to  hasten  its  coming.  In  that  future, 
mankind  were  to  rise  higher  than  they  had  ever 
risen  before  ;  rulers  and  ruled  were  to  act  in  fruit 
ful  harmony  for  their  common  good  ;  the  brightest 
virtues  of  Greece,  the  purest  virtues  of  Rome,  were 
to  revive  in  some  new  form  of  society,  not  very 
definitely  conceived  by  the  understanding,  but 
which  floated  in  magnificent  visions  before  the 
glowing  imagination. 

I  hasten  reluctantly  over  this  part  of  my  subject ; 
for  the  formation  of  public  opinion  in  France  and 
its  action  upon  government,  even  while  all  the 
forms  of  an  almost  absolute  monarchy  were  pre 
served,  is  an  important  chapter  in  the  history  of 
European  civilization.  But  hasten  I  must,  merely 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     185 

calling  attention  to  the  existence  of  this  element, 
and  reminding  my  reader  that,  chronologically,  of 
the  two  parts  which  composed  this  opinion,  hatred 
for  England  had  been  at  work  ever  since  1763, 
while  sympathy  with  the  Colonists  was  rather  an 
individual  than  a  public  feeling  till  late, in  1776. 

It  was  at  Versailles  and  not  at  Paris  that  action 
began.  Vergennes's  first  step  was  to  send  another 
agent,  no  longer  merely  to  observe  and  report,  but  to 
ascertain,  though  without  compromising  the  French 
government,  how  far  the  Americans  were  prepared 
for  French  intervention.  English  suspicions  were 
already  awakened.  Already  the  English  Minister 
had  informed  the  French  Ambassador,  upon  the 
authority  of  a  private  letter  of  General  Lee  to  Gen 
eral  Burgoyne,  that  the  Americans  were  sure  of 
French  aid.  It  was  not  without  great  difficulty 
that  the  new  agent,  De  Bonvouloir,  could  find  a 
safe  conveyance.  But  by  December  he  was  al 
ready  in  Philadelphia,  and,  though  still  pretending 
to  be  a  mere  traveller,  was  soon  in  full  communica 
tion  with  the  Committee  of  Secret  Correspondence. 

The  appointment  of  this  committee  on  the  29th 
of  November,  1775,  is  the  beginning  of  the  his 
tory  of  our  foreign  relations.  Then  began  our  at 
tempts  to  gain  admission  into  the  great  family  of 
nations  as  an  independent  power,  —  attempts  not 
always  judiciously  directed,  attended  in  some  in 
stances  with  disappointment  and  mortification,  but 
crowned  at  last  with  as  full  a  measure  of  success 


186  LECTURE    VI. 

as  those  who  understood  monarchy  and  Europe 
could  have  anticipated.  Two  of  its  members, 
Franklin  and  Dickinson,  were  already  known 
abroad,  where,  at  a  later  day,  Jay  also  was  to  make 
himself  an  enduring  name.  The  other  two,  John 
son  and  Harrison,  enjoyed  and  merited  a  high 
Colonial  reputation. 

There  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  Franklin's 
keen  eye  quickly  penetrated  the  veil  under  which 
De  Bonvouloir  attempted  to  conceal  his  real  char 
acter.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  he  had  been 
brought  into  contact  with  French  diplomacy,  nor 
the  first  proof  he  had  seen  that  France  was  watch 
ing  the  contest  in  the  hope  of  abasing  the  power 
of  her  rival.  While  agent  in  London  for  four  Colo 
nies, —  a  true  Ambassador,  if  to  watch  events,  study 
character,  give  timely  warning  and  wise  counsel", 
is  the  office  of  an  ambassador,  —  he  had  lived  on 
a  friendly  footing  with  the  French  legation  and 
profited  by  it  to  give  them  correct  views  of  the 
character  and  feelings  of  the  Colonies.  And  now, 
reducing  the  question  to  these  simple  heads,  he 
asked,  — 

"  How  is  France  disposed  towards  us  ?  if  favor 
ably,  what  assurance  will  she  give  us  of  it  ? 

"  Can  we  have  from  France  two  good  engineers, 
and  how  shall  we  apply  for  them  ? 

"  Can  we  have,  by  direct  communication,  arms 
and  munitions  of  war,  and  free  entrance  and  exit 
for  our  vessels  in  French  ports?  " 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     187 

But  whatever  reliance  they  may  have  placed  on 
the  French  emissary,  the  committee  were  unwill 
ing  to  confine  themselves  to  this  as  the  only  means 
of  opening  communication  with  European  powers. 
During  a  visit  to  Holland,  Franklin  had  formed 
the  acquaintance  of  a  Swiss  gentleman  of  the  name 
of  Dumas :  a  man  of  great  learning  and  liberal 
sentiments,  and  whose  social  position  gave  him 
access  to  sure  sources  of  information.  To  him  he 
now  addressed  himself  with  the  great  question  of 
the  moment :  "  If  we  throw  off  our  dependence 
upon  Great  Britain,  will  any  court  enter  into  alli 
ance  with  us  and  aid  us  for  the  sake  of  our  com 
merce  ?  " 

Such  then,  was  the  starting-point  of  our  diplo 
matic  history ;  the  end  and  aim  of  all  our  nego 
tiations  ;  alliance  and  aid  for  the  sake  of  our  com 
merce. 

But  we  should  greatly  mistake  the  character  of 
the  times  if  we  suppose  that  this  point  was  reached 
without  many  and  warm  debates.  When  the  ques 
tion  was  first  started  in  Congress,  that  body  was 
found  to  be  as  much  divided  upon  this  as  upon  any 
of  the  other  subjects  which  it  was  called  upon  to 
discuss.  With  Franklin,  one  party  held  that,  in 
stead  of  asking  for  treaties  with  European  powers, 
we  should  first  conquer  our  independence,  when 
those  powers,  allured  by  our  commerce,  would  come 
and  ask  us ;  the  other,  with  John  Adams,  that  as 
our  true  policy  and  a  mark  of  respect  from  a  new 


188  LECTURE    VI. 

nation  to  old  ones,  we  ought  to  send  ministers  to 
every  great  court  of  Europe  in  order  to  obtain  the 
recognition  of  our  independence  and  form  treaties 
of  amity  and  commerce.  Franklin,  who  had  al 
ready  outlived  six  treaties  of  "  firm  and  lasting 
peace  "  and  now  saw  the  seventh  swiftly  approach 
ing  its  end,  might  well  doubt  the  efficacy  of  those 
acts  to  which  his  young  and  impetuous  colleague 
attached  so  much  importance.  But  in  Congress 
the  majority  was  with  Adams,  and  for  a  while 
there  was  what  Gouverneur  Morris  called  a  rage 
for  treaties. 

The  Committee  of  Secret  Correspondence,  as  I 
have  already  said,  was  formed  in  November,  1775. 
One  of  its  first  measures  was  to  appoint  agents, 
Arthur  Lee  for  London,  Dumas  for  the  Hague, 
and,  early  in  the  following  year,  Silas  Deane  for 
France.  Lee  immediately  opened  relations  with 
the  French  court  by  means  of  the  French  Ambas 
sador  in  London  ;  and  Deane,  on  his  arrival  in 
France  in  June,  followed  them  up  with  great  intel 
ligence  and  zeal.  A  million  of  livres  was  placed 
by  Vergennes  in  the  hands  of  Beaumarchais,  who 
assumed  the  name  of  Hortalez  &  Co.,  and  arranged 
with  Deane  the  measures  for  transmitting  it  to 
America  in  the  shape  of  arms  and  supplies. 

And  now  the  Declaration  of  Independence  came 
to  add  the  question  of  recognition  to  the  question 
of  aid.  But  recognition  was  a  declaration  of  war, 
and  to  bring  the  French  government  to  this  deci- 


DIPLOMACY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.     189 

sive  pass  required  the  highest  diplomatic  skill  sup 
ported  by  dignity  and  weight  of  character.  There 
was  but  one  man  in  the  new  Republic  in  whom 
these  qualities  were  combined,  and  that  man  was 
Franklin. 

The  histoiy  of  diplomacy,  with  its  long  record  of 
solemn  entrances  and  brilliant  processions,  its  daz 
zling  pictures  of  thrones  and  courts,  which  make 
the  head  dizzy  and  the  heart  sick,  has  no  scene 
half  so  grand  as  the  entrance  of  this  unattended, 
unushered  old  man  into  France  in  December, 
1776.  No  one  knew  of  his  coming  until  he  stood 
among  them :  and  then,  as  they  looked  upon  his 
serene  yet  grave  and  thoughtful  face,  —  upon  his 
gray  hairs  which  carried  memory  back  to  the  fatal 
year  of  Ramillies  and  the  waning  glories  of  the 
great  Louis, — on  the  right  hand  which  had  writ 
ten  words  of  persuasive  wisdom  for  prince  and 
peasant,  which  had  drawn  the  lightning  from  its 
home  in  the  heavens,  and  was  now  stretched  forth 
with  such  an  imperial  grasp  to  strip  a  sceptre  they 
all  hated  of  its  richest  jewel,  — a  feeling  of  rever 
ential  awe  came  over  them,  and  they  bowed  them 
selves  before  him  as,  in  the  secret  depths  of  their 
hearts,  they  had  never  bowed  to  emperor  or  king. 
"  He  is  at  Nantes.  He  is  on  the  road,"  was  whis 
pered  from  mouth  to  mouth  in  the  saloons  of  the 
capital,  as  his  landing  became  known.  Some  as 
serted  confidently  that  he  had  already  reached 
Paris,  others  that  he  might  be  hourly  expected. 
Then  came  the  certainty :  he  had  slept  at  Ver- 


190  LECTURE    VI. 

sallies  the  night  of  the  21st,  had  come  to  Paris  at 
two  the  next  afternoon,  and  now  was  at  his  lodg 
ings  in  the  Rue  de  FUniversite. 

No  one,  perhaps,  was  more  surprised  than  Frank 
lin  to  find  himself  the  object  of  such  universal  at 
tention.  But  no  one  knew  better  than  he  how  to 
turn  it  to  account  for  the  accomplishment  of  his 
purpose.  In  a  few  days  he  withdrew  to  the  quiet 
little  village  of  Passy,  at  easy  distance  both  from 
the  city  and  the  court ;  and,  without  endeavoring 
to  increase  the  public  curiosity  by  an  air  of  mys 
tery  or  seclusion,  kept  himself  sufficiently  in  the 
background  to  prevent  that  curiosity  from  losing  its 
stimulant  by  too  great  a  familiarity  with  its  object. 
Where  men  of  science  met  for  the  discussion 
of  a  new  theory  or  the  trial  of  a  new  experiment, 
he  was  to  be  seen  amongst  them  with  an  unpre 
tending  air  of  intelligent  interest,  and  wise  sug 
gestions,  never  indiscreetly  proffered,  never  indis 
creetly  withheld.  Where  humane  men  met  to 
discuss  some  question  of  practical  benevolence, 
or  philosophers  to  debate  some  principle  of  social 
organization,  he  was  always  prepared  to  take  his 
part  with  apt  and  far-reaching  illustrations  from 
the  stores  of  his  meditation  and  experience.  Some 
times  he  was  to  be  seen  in  places  of  amusement, 
and  always  with  a  genial  smile,  as  if  in  his  sympathy 
with  the  enjoyment  of  others  he  had  forgotten  his 
own  perplexities  and  cares.  In  a  short  time  he 
had  drawn  around  him  the  best  minds  of  the  capi- 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     191 

tal,  and  laid  his  skilful  hand  on  the  public  pulse 
with  an  unerring  accuracy  of  touch,  which  told  him 
when  to  speak  and  when  to  be  silent,  when  to  urge 
and  when  to  leave  events  to  their  natural  progress. 
Ever  active,  ever  vigilant,  no  opportunity  was  suf 
fered  to  escape  him,  and  yet  no  one  whose  good 
will  it  was  desirable  to  propitiate  was  disgusted  by 
injudicious  importunity.  Even  Vergennes,  who 
knew  that  his  coming  was  the  signal  of  a  new  fa 
vor  to  be  asked,  found  in  his  way  of  asking  it  such 
a  cheerful  recognition  of  its  true  character,  so  con 
siderate  an  exposition  of  the  necessities  which  made 
it  urgent,  that  he  never  saw  him  come  without 
pleasure.  If  he  had  been  a  vain  man,  he  would 
have  enjoyed  his  position  too  much  to  make  good 
use  of  it  for  the  cause  he  came  to  serve.  If  he 
had  been  a  weak  man,  he  would  have  fallen  under 
the  control  of  the  opinion  which  it  was  his  office 
to  guide.  If  he  had  not  possessed  a  pure  and  gen 
uine  sympathy  with  human  nature,  he  would  not 
have  been  able,  at  the  age  of  seventy,  to  enter 
into  the  feelings  of  a  people  so  different  from  those 
among  whom  he  had  always  lived.  And  if  he  had 
not  been  stimulated  by  earnest  convictions,  and 
governed  by  high  principles,  he  would  not  have 
been  able  to  withstand  the  frequent  and  insidious 
attempts  that  were  made  to  shake  his  fortitude  and 
undermine  his  fidelity.  But  in  him,  as  in  Wash 
ington,  there  was  a  rare  predominance  of  that 
sound  common-sense  which  is  man's  surest  miide 


192  LECTURE    VI. 

in  his  relations  with  events,  and  that  firm  belief  in 
the  progress  of  humanity  which  is  his  best  reliance 
in  his  relations  with  men. 

Congress  had  given  him  two  associates  in  his 
commission  to  France,  Silas  Deane  of  Connecti 
cut,  and  Arthur  Lee  of  Virginia.  Deane  had 
been  a  member  of  Congress,  was  active,  enterpris 
ing,  and  industrious ;  but  his  judgment  was  not 
sound,  his  knowledge  of  men  not  extensive,  his  ac 
quaintance  with  great  interests  and  his  experience 
of  great  affairs  insufficient  for  the  important  posi 
tion  in  which  he  was  placed.  Lee  had  lived  long 
in  England,  was  an  accomplished  scholar,  a  good 
writer,  familiar  with  the  character  of  European 
statesmen  and  the  politics  of  European  courts  ;  but 
vain,  jealous,  irritable,  suspicious  ;  ambitious  of  the 
first  honors,  and  disposed  to  look  upon  every  one 
wrho  attracted  more  attention  than  himself  as  his 
natural  enemy.  Deane,  deeply  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  Franklin's  social  position  for  the 
fulfilment  of  their  common  duties,  although  ener 
getic  and  active,  cheerfully  yielded  the  precedence 
to  his  more  experienced  colleague.  Lee,  conscious 
of  his  own  accomplishments,  regarded  the  deference 
paid  to  Franklin  as  an  insult  to  himself,  and 
promptly  resumed  in  Paris  the  war  of  petty  in 
trigue  and  secret  accusation,  which,  a  few  years 
before,  he  had  waged  against  him  in  England.  In 
this  vile  course  Congress  soon  unwittingly  gave 
him  a  worthy  coadjutor,  by  appointing,  as  Com- 


DIPL  OH  A  CY  OF  THE  RE  VOL  UTION.     1 93 

missioner  to  Tuscany,  Ralph  Izard  of  South  Car 
olina  ;  who,  without  rendering  a  single  service, 
without  even  going  near  the,  court  to  which  he  was 
accredited,  continued  for  two  years  to  draw  his  sal 
ary  and  abuse  Dr.  Franklin. 

When  Franklin  reached  Paris,  he  found  that 
Deane  had  already  made  himself  a  respectable  po 
sition  ;  and  that,  through  Caron  de  Beaumarchais, 
the  brilliant  author  of  Figaro,  the  French  gov 
ernment  had  begun  that  system  of  pecuniary  aid 
which  it  continued  to  render  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  the  war.  Vergennes  granted  the  com 
missioners  an  early  interview,  listened  respectfully 
to  their  statements,  asked  them  for  a  memorial  to 
lay  before  the  King,  assured  them  of  the  personal 
protection  of  the  French  court,  promised  them 
every  commercial  facility  not  incompatible  with 
treaty  obligations  with  Great  Britain,  and  advised 
them  to  seek  an  interview  with  the  Spanish  Am 
bassador.  The  memorial  was  promptly  drawn  up 
and  presented.  A  copy  of  it  was  given  to  the 
Spanish  Ambassador  to  lay  before  the  court  of 
Madrid.  Negotiations  were  fairly  opened. 

But  Franklin  soon  became  convinced  that  the 
French  government  had  marked  out  for  itself  a  line 
of  policy,  from  which,  as  it  was  founded  upon  a 
just  appreciation  of  its  own  interests,  it  would.not 
swerve  ;  that  it  wished  the  Americans  success,  was 
prepared  to  give  them  secret  aid  in  arms  and  mon 
ey,  and  by  a  partial  opening  of  its  ports ;  but  that 


194  LECTURE    VI. 

it  was  compelled  by  the  obligations  of  the  family 
compact  to  time  its  own  movements  in  a  certain 
measure  by  those  of  Spain,  and  was  not  prepared 
to  involve  itself  in  a  war  with  England  by  an 
open  acknowledgment  of  the  independence  of  the 
Colonies,  until  they  had  given  fuller  proof  of  the 
earnestness  of  their  intentions  and  of  their  ability 
to  bear  their  part  in  the  contest.  Nor  was  he  long 
in  perceiving  that  the  French  government  was  giv 
ing  the  Colonies  money  which  it  sorely  needed  for 
paying  its  own  debts  and  defraying  its  own  ex 
penses  ;  and  thus,  that  however  well-disposed  it 
might  be,  there  were  certain  limits  beyond  which 
it  was  not  in  its  power  to  go.  It  was  evident, 
therefore,  to  his  just  and  sagacious  mind,  that  to 
accept  the  actual  policy  of  France  as  the  gage  of 
a  more  open  avowal  under  more  favorable  circum 
stances,  and  to  recognize  the  limits  which  her  finan 
cial  embarrassments  set  to  her  pecuniary  grants, 
was  the  only  course  that  he  could  pursue  without 
incurring  the  danger  of  defeating  his  own  negotia 
tions  by  excess  of  zeal.  Meanwhile  there  was 
enough  to  do  in  strengthening  the  ground  already 
gained,  in  counteracting  the  insidious  efforts  of 
English  emissaries,  in  correcting  erroneous  impres 
sions,  in  awakening  just  expectations,  in  keeping  up 
that,  public  interest  which  had  so  large  a  part  in 
the  formation  of  public  opinion,  and  in  so  regulat 
ing  the  action  of  that  opinion  as  to  make  it  bear 
with  a  firm  and  consistent  and  not  unwelcome 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     195 

pressure  upon  the  action  of  government.  And  in 
doing  this  he  had  to  contend  not  only  with  the  lo 
cal  difficulties  of  his  position,  but  with  the  difficul 
ty  of  uncertain  communications,  months  often  inter 
vening  between  the  sending  of  a  despatch  and  the 
receiving  of  an  answer.  Thus  newsmongers  had 
abundant  opportunities  for  idle  reports  and  un 
founded  conjectures,  and  enemies  ample  scope  for 
malicious  falsehoods. 

It  was  a  happy  circumstance  for  the  new  state 
that  her  chief  representative  was  a  man  who  knew 
when  to  wait  with  dignity,  and  when  to  act  with 
energy ;  for  it  was  this  just  appreciation  of  circum 
stances  that  gave  him  such  a  strong  hold  upon  the 
mind  of  Vergennes,  and  imparted  such  weight  to 
all  his  applications  for  aid.  No  sooner  had  Con 
gress  begun  to  receive  money  from  Europe,  than 
it  began  to  draw  bills  upon  its  agents  there,  and 
often  without  any  certainty  that  those  agents  would 
be  in  a  condition  to  meet  them.  Bills  were  drawn 
on  Mr.  Jay  when  he  was  sent  to  Spain,  and  his 
already  difficult  position  made  doubly  difficult  and 
humiliating.  Bills  were  drawn  on  Mr.  Adams  in 
Holland,  and  he  was  unable  to  pay  them.  But 
such  was  the  confidence  of  the  French  court  in  the 
representations  of  Dr.  Franklin,  that  he  was  not 
only  enabled  to  honor  all  the  drafts  which  were 
made  upon  him  directly,  but  to  relieve  his  less  for 
tunate  colleagues  from  the  embarrassments  in  which 
the  precipitation  of  their  own  government  had  in 
volved  them. 


196  LECTURE    VI. 

And  thus  passed  the  first  twelve  months  of  his 
residence  in  France,  cloudy  and  anxious  months, 
more  especially  during  the  summer  of  1777,  when 
it  was  known  that  Burgoyne  was  coming  down  by 
Lake  Champlain,  and  Howe  preparing  for  a  great 
expedition  to  the  northward.  Then  came  the 
tidings  that  Howe  had  taken  Philadelphia.  "  Say 
rather,"  said  Franklin,  with  that  air  of  conviction 
which  carries  conviction  with  it,  "  That  Philadel 
phia  has  taken  Howe."  Men  paused  as  they  re 
peated  his  words,  and  suspended  their  judgment ; 
and  when  the  news  of  the  battle  of  German  town 
and  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne  followed,  they  felt 
deeper  reverence  for  the  calm  old  man  who  had 
reasoned  so  wisely  when  all  others  desponded.  It 
was  on  the  4th  of  December  that  these  welcome 
tidings  reached  Paris,  and  the  commissioners  lost 
no  time  in  communicating  them  to  the  court.  The 
second  day  after,  the  secretary  of  the  King's  Coun 
cil  came  to  them  with  official  congratulations.  Ne 
gotiations  were  resumed  and  carried  on  rapidly, 
nothing  but  a  desire  to  consult  the  court  of  Madrid 
being  allowed  to  retard  them ;  and  on  the  6th  of 
February,  1778,  the  first  treaty  between  the  Unit 
ed  States  and  a  foreign  power  was  signed  with  all 
the  formalities  which  custom  has  attached  to  these 
acts.  On  the  20th  of  March,  the  commissioners 
were  presented  to  the  King. 

Nor  was  it  mere  curiosity  which  filled  the  halls 
of  the  royal  palace  with  an  eager  throng  on  that 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     197 

eventful  day.  These  were  the  halls  which  had 
witnessed  the  gathering  of  powerful  men  and  of 
great  men  to  the  footstool  of  the  haughtiest  of 
French  kings ;  which  had  seen  a  Conde  and  a  Tu- 
renne  lay  down  their  laurels  at  the  royal  feet ;  a 
Bossuet  and  a  Boileau  check  the  flow  of  indepen 
dent  thought  to  bask  them  in  the  beams  of  the  royal 
smile ;  a  Fenelon  retiring  with  saddened  brow  to 
record  for  posterity  the  truths  which  he  was  not 
permitted  to  utter  to  the  royal  ear;  a  Racine, 
shrinking  from  the  cold  glance  of  the  royal  eye, 
and  going  home  to  die  of  a  broken  heart.  Here 
Louis  had  signed  the  decree  which  sent  his  dra 
goons  to  force  his  Protestant  subjects  to  the  mass 
and  the  confessional.  Here  he  had  received  with 
a  smile  of  triumph  the  tidings  that  the  Pope  him 
self  had  been  compelled  to  yield  to  his  arrogant 
pretensions  ;  and  here  he  had  listened  in  haughty 
state  when  one  of  the  last  of  the  glorious  republics 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  city  of  Columbus  and 
Andrew  Doria,  which  had  once  covered  the  Med 
iterranean  with  her  ships,  and  sent  forth  her  hardy 
mariners  as  from  a  nursery  of  brave  men  to  impart 
their  skill  and  communicate  their  enterprising  ge 
nius  to  the  rest  of  Europe,  humbled  herself  before 
him  through  her  Doge,  as,  bowing  his  venerable 
head,  the  old  man  asked  pardon  in  her  name,  not 
for  the  wrongs  that  she  had  committed,  but  for  the 
wrongs  that  she  had  borne. 

And  now,  up  those  marble  stairs,  through  those 


198  LECTURE   VI. 

tapestried  halls,  came  three  men  of  humble  birth, 
two  of  whom  had  wrought  for  their  daily  bread 
and  eaten  it  in  the  sweat  of  their  brows,  to  receive 
their  recognition  as  the  representatives  of  a  power 
which  had  taken  its  place  among  the  nations,  not 
by  virtue  of  the  divine  right  of  kings,  but  in  the 
name  of  the  inalienable  rights  of  the  people.  Hap 
py  would  it  have  been  for  the  young  King  who  sat 
in  Louis's  seat  if  he  could  have  understood  the 
full  meaning  of  his  act,  and  recognized  at  the  same 
moment  the  claims  of  his  own  people  to  participate 
in  that  government  which,  deriving  its  strength 
from  their  labor,  could  have  no  security  but  in 
their  love. 

Nothing  could  have  demonstrated  more  clearly 
the  wisdom  of  Franklin's  confidence  in  the  sincer 
ity  of  the  French  government,  than  the  generous 
and  liberal  terms  of  the  treaty.  No  present  ad 
vantage  was  taken  of  the  dependent  condition  of 
their  new  ally ;  no  prospective  advantage  was  re 
served  for  future  contingencies.  Only  one  condi 
tion  was  stipulated,  —  and  that  as  much  in  the 
interest  of  the  Colonies  as  of  France,  —  that  they 
should  never  return  to  their  allegiance.  Only  one 
reciprocal  obligation  was  assumed,  that  neither 
party  should  make  peace  with  England  without 
the  knowledge  and  consent  of  the  other.  All  the 
rest  was  full  and  free  reciprocation  in  the  future, 
and  the  assurance  of  efficient  aid  in  the  present ; 
no  ambiguities,  no  doubtful  expressions,  no  debat 
able  ground  for  interpretation  to  build  upon  and 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     19U 

weave  the  mazes  of  her  subtile  web ;  but  clear, 
distinct,  and  definite  ;  a  mutual  specification  of 
mutual  duties  and  mutual  rights  ;  equal  could  not 
have  treated  more  firmly  with  equal  than  this  new 
power,  as  yet  unrecognized  in  the  congress  of  na 
tions,  treated  with  the  oldest  monarchy  of  Europe. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  rage  for  treaties 
which  prevailed  for  a  while  in  Congress.  It  was 
this  that  sent  William  and  Arthur  Lee  upon 
their  bootless  errands  to  Vienna  and  Berlin; 
Francis  Dana  to  St.  Petersburg ;  John  Jay  to  en 
counter  embarrassment  and  mortification  at  Ma 
drid  ;  and  gave  Ralph  Izard  an  opportunity  to 
draw  an  unearned  salary,  through  two  successive 
years,  from  the  scanty  funds  of  the  Congressional 
banker  at  Paris. 

Jay's  situation  was  peculiarly  trying.  He  had 
been  Chief  Justice  of  New  York,  President  of 
Congress,  had  written  some  of  the  most  eloquent 
state  papers  that  were  issued  in  the  name  of  that 
body  whose  state  papers  were  ranked  by  Chat 
ham  among  the  best  that  ever  were  written,  and, 
at  a  personal  sacrifice,  had  exchanged  a  position  of 
honor  and  dignity  at  home  for  a  doubtful  position 
abroad.  A  clear-headed,  industrious,  decided  man, 
he  had  to  contend,  for  more  than  two  years,  with 
the  two  qualities  most  alien  to  his  nature,  —  habit 
ual  dilatoriness  and  diplomatic  reticence. 

Spain,  like  France,  had  marked  out  a  path  for 
herself,  and  it  was  impossible  to  move  her  from  it. 


200  LECTURE  VI. 

He  obtained  some  money  to  help  him  pay  some  of 
the  drafts  of  Congress,  but  neither  treaty  nor  rec 
ognition.  "  They  have  taken  four  years,"  wrote 
Franklin,  "  to  consider  whether  they  would  treat 
with  us:  I  would  give  them  forty,  and  let  us 
mind  our  own  business."  And  still  viewing  the 
question  as  he  had  viewed  it  in  the  beginning,  he 
wrote  in  his  diary  in  May,  1782:  "It  seems  to 
me  that  we  have,  in  most  instances,  hurt  our 
credit  and  importance  by  sending  all  over  Europe, 
begging  alliances  and  soliciting  declarations  of  our 
independence.  The  nations,  perhaps,  from  thence 
seemed  to  think  that  our  independence  is  some 
thing  they  have  to  sell,  and  that  we  do  not  offer 
enough  for  it."  * 

O 

The  most  important  European  event  in  its 
American  bearings,  after  the  recognition  by  France, 
was  the  armed  neutrality  of  the  Northern  powers ; 
a  court  intrigue  in  Russia,  though  a  sober  act  in 
Spain, — and  which  was  followed  in  December, 
1780,  by  the  addition  of  Holland  to  the  open  ene 
mies  of  England. 

Attempts  had  already  been  made  to  form  a 
treaty  with  Holland  ;  first  through  William  Lee, 
with  such  prospect  of  success  as  to  induce  Congress 
to  send  Henry  Laurens  to  the  Hague  to  continue 
the  negotiations.  Laurens  was  captured  by  an 
English  cruiser,  and  soon  after  John  Adams  was 
directed  to  take  his  place.  At  Paris,  Adams  had 

*  Franklin's  Works,  Vol.  IX.  p.  284,  Sparks's  edition. 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     201 

failed  singularly  as  a  negotiator ;  lending  a  ready 
ear  to  Lee,  hardly  attempting  to  disguise  his  jeal 
ousy  of  Franklin,  and  enforcing  his  own  opinions 
in  a  manner  equally  offensive  to  the  personal  feel 
ings  of  the  minister  and  the  traditional  usages  of 
the  court.  But  at  the  Hague  he  found  a  field 
better  suited  to  his  ardent  temperament,  and, 
backed  by  the  brilliant  success  of  the  campaign  of 
1781,  and  the  votes  of  the  House  of  Commons  in 
favor  of  reconciliation,  succeeded  in  obtaining  a 
public  recognition  in  the  spring  of  1782,  and  con 
cluding  a  treaty  in  the  autumn. 

All  these  things  were  more  or  less  upon  the  sur 
face,  —  done  and  doing  more  or  less  openly.  But 
under  the  surface  the  while,  and  known  only  to 
those  directly  concerned  therein,  -were  covert  at 
tempts  on  the  part  of  England  to  open  communi 
cations  with  Franklin  by  means  of  personal  friends. 
There  had  been  nothing  but  the  recognition  of  our 
independence  that  England  would  not  have  given 
to  prevent  the  alliance  with  France ;  and  now 
there  was  nothing  that  she  was  not  ready  to  do  to 
prevent  it  from  accomplishing  its  purpose.  And  it 
adds  wonderfully  to  our  conception  of  Franklin  to 
think  of  him  as  going  about  with  this  knowledge, 
in  addition  to  the  knowledge  of  so  much  else  in 
his  mind ;  this  care,  in  addition  to  so  many  other 
cares,  ever  weighing  upon  his  heart.  Little  did 
jealous,  intriguing  Lee  know  of  these  things ;  pet 
ulant,  waspish  Izard  still  less.  A  mind  less  sa- 

9* 


202  LECTURE    VI. 

gacious  than  Franklin's  might  have  grown  suspi 
cious  under  the  influences  that  were  employed  to 
awaken  his  distrust  of  Vergennes.  And  a  charac 
ter  less  firmly  established  would  have  lost  its  hold 
upon  Vergennes  amid  the  constant  efforts  that 
were  made  to  shake  his  confidence  in  the  gratitude 
and  good  faith  of  America.  But  Franklin,  who 
believed  that  timely  faith  was  a  part  of  wisdom, 
went  directly  to  the  French  Minister  with  the  prop 
ositions  of  the  English  emissaries,  and  frankly  tell 
ing  him  all  about  them,  and  taking  counsel  of  him 
as  to  the  manner  of  meeting  them,  not  only  stripped 
them  of  their  power  to  harm  him,  but  converted 
the  very  measures  which  his  enemies  had  so  insid 
iously,  and,  as  they  deemed,  so  skilfully  prepared 
for  his  ruin,  into  new  sources  of  strength. 

Of  the  proffers  of  mediation  in  which  first  Spain 
and  then  Russia  and  the  German  Emperor  were  to 
take  so  important  a  part,  as  they  bore  no  fruit,  they 
may  safely  be  passed  over  in  silence ;  simply  observ 
ing,  as  we  pass,  how  little  European  statesmen  un 
derstood  the  business  in  which  they  were  so  ready 
to  intermeddle,  and  what  a  curious  spectacle  Cath 
arine  and  Kaunitz  present,  seeking  to  usher  into 
the  congress  of  kings  the  first  true  representative 
of  that  great  principle  of  popular  sovereignty  which 
was  to  make  all  their  thrones  totter  and  tremble 
under  them.  And  observing,  too,  that  it  furnished 
that  self-dependence  of  John  Adams  which  too 
often  degenerated  into  arrogance  an  occasion  to 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     203 

manifest  itself  in  a  nobler  light ;  for  he  refused  to 
take  part  in  the  discussions  in  any  other  character 
than  as  the  representative  of  an  independent  power. 
Meanwhile,  events  were  hastening  the  inevitable 
termination.  In  Europe,  England  stood  alone, 
without  either  secret  or  open  sympathy.  In  June, 
1779,  a  war  with  Spain  had  followed  the  French 
war  of  1778.  In  July,  1780,  the  "  armed  neu 
trality  "  had  denned  the  position  of  the  Northern 
powers  adversely  to  her  maritime  pretensions.  War 
was  declared  with  Holland  in  December  of  the 
same  year.  In  America,  the  campaign  of  1781 
had  stripped  her  of  her  Southern  conquests,  and 
effaced  the  impression  of  her  early  victories.  At 
home  her  people  were  daily  growing  more  and 
more  restless  under  the  pressure  of  taxation ;  and 
even  the  country  gentlemen,  who  had  stood  by  the 
ministry  so  long  in  the  hope  of  transferring  their 
own  burden  to  the  shoulders  of  their  American 
brethren,  began  to  give  evident  tokens  of  discon 
tent.  It  was  clear  that  England  must  consent  to 
peace.  And  yet  she  still  stood  bravely  up,  pre 
senting  a  bold  front  to  each  new  enemy  ;  a  grand 
spectacle  in  one  light,  for  there  is  always  some 
thing  grand  in  indomitable  courage  ;  but  a  sad  one 
in  the  true  light,  and  one  from  which,  a  hundred 
years  hence,  the  philosophic  historian  will  turn  with 
a  shudder,  when  summing  up  all  these  events,  and 
asking  what  all  this  blood  was  shed  for,  he  shows 
that  the  only  principle  at  stake  on  her  part  was 


204  LECTURE    VI. 

that  pernicious  claim  to  control  the  industry  of  the 
world  which,  had  she  succeeded,  would  have  dried 
up  the  sources  of  prosperity  in  America,  as  it  is 
fast  drying  them  up  in  Ireland  and  in  India.* 

Nor  was  peace  less  necessary  to  her  rival.  The 
social  revolution  which  the  two  last  reigns  had  ren 
dered  inevitable,  was  moving  with  gigantic  strides 
towards  its  bloody  consummation.  The  last  well- 
founded  hope  of  reforms  that  should  probe  deep 
enough  to  anticipate  revolution  had  disappeared 
with  Turgot.  The  statesmanship  of  Vergennes 
had  no  remedy  for  social  disease.  It  was  a  states 
manship  of  alliances,  and  treaties,  and  wars,  —  tra 
ditional  and  sometimes  brilliant,  —  but  all  on  the 
surface,  leaving  the  wounded  heart  untouched,  the 
sore  spirit  unconsoled.  The  financial  skill  of  Neck- 
er  could  not  reach  the  evil.  It  was  mere  banking 

o 

skill,  and  nothing  more ;  very  respectable  in  its 
time  and  place,  filling  a  few  mouths  more  with 
bread,  but  failing  to  see,  although  told  of  it  long 
ago  by  one  who  never  erred,  that  "  man  does  not 
live  by  bread  alone."  The  finances  were  in  hope 
less  disorder.  The  resources  of  the  country  were 
almost  exhausted.  Public  faith  had  been  strained 
to  the  utmost.  National  forbearance  had  been  put 
to  humiliating  tests  under  the  last  reign  by  the  par 
tition  of  Poland  and  the  peace  of  Kainardji ;  and 

*  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  referring  in  this  con 
nection  to  Mr.  Carey's  admirable  exposition  of  this  fact  in  his 
"Principles  of  Political  Science." 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     205 

the  sense  of  self-respect  had  not  been  fully  restored 
by  the  American  war.  And  although  no  one  yet 
dreamed  of  what  seven  swift  years  were  to  bring 
forth,  all  minds  were  agitated  by  a  mysterious  con 
sciousness  of  the  approaching  tempest. 

In  1782,  the  overtures  of  England  began  to  as 
sume  a  more  definite  form.  Franklin  saw  that  the 
time  for  decisive  action  was  at  hand,  and  prepared 
himself  for  it  with  his  wonted  calm  and  deliberate 
appreciation  of  circumstances.  That  France  was 
sincere  he  could  not  doubt,  after  all  the  proofs  she 
had  given  of  her  sincerity ;  nor  could  he  doubt 
that  she  would  concur  heartily  in  preparing  the 
way  for  a  lasting  peace.  He  had  the  instructions 
of  Congress  to  guide  him  in  what  America  would 
claim ;  and  his  own  mind  was  quickly  made  up  as 
to  what  England  must  yield.  Four  points  were 
indispensable, —  a  full  recognition  of  independence  ; 
an  immediate  withdrawal  of  her  troops  ;  a  just 
settlement  of  boundaries,  those  of  Canada  being 
confined,  at  least,  to  the  limits  of  the  act  of  1774 ; 
and  the  freedom  of  the  fisheries.  Without  these 
there  could  be  no  treaty.  But  to  make  the  work 
of  peace  sure,  he  suggested,  as  equally  useful  to 
both  parties,  four  other  concessions,  the  most  im 
portant  of  which  were  the  giving  up  of  Canada, 
and  securing  equal  privileges  in  English  and  Irish 
ports  to  the  ships  of  both  nations.  The  four  ne 
cessary  articles  became  the  real  basis  of  the  treaty. 

John    Adams,  John  Jay,  and  Henry  Laurens 


200  LECTURE    VI. 

were  joined  with  him  in  the  commission.  Jay 
was  first  on  the  ground,  reaching  Paris  in  June ; 
Adams  came  in  October  ;  Laurens  not  till  Novem 
ber,  when  the  preliminary  articles  were  ready  for 
signature.  They  all  accepted  Franklin's  four  arti 
cles  as  the  starting-point.  But  unfortunately  they 
did  not  all  share  Franklin's  well-founded  confi 
dence  in  the  sincerity  of  the  French  government. 
Jay's  mind  was  embittered  by  the  tergiversations 
of  Spain.  Adams  had  not  forgotten  his  former  dis 
agreements  with  Vergennes,  and  hated  Franklin 
so  bitterly  that  he  could  hardly  be  prevailed  upon 
to  treat  him  with  the  civility  which  his  age  and  po 
sition  demanded,  much  less  with  the  consideration 
which  the  interest  of  his  country  demanded.  Both 
Jay  and  Adams  were  under  the  influence  of  that 
hostility  to  France  which  prevailed  as  extensively  t 
in  the  Colonies  as  in  the  mother  country,  —  a  hos 
tility  which  neither  of  them  was  at  sufficient  pains 
to  conceal,  although  neither  of  them  perhaps  was 
fully  conscious  of  it.  It  was  this  feeling  that  kept 
them  both  aloof  from  the  French  Minister,  and 
made  them  so  accessible  to  English  influences. 
And  it  was  a  knowledge  of  this  feeling  which  three 
years  later  suggested  to  George  III.  that  well- 
known  insinuation  about  Adams's  dislike  to  French 
manners,  which  would  have  been  a  scathing  sar 
casm  if  it  had  not  been  an  inexcusable  imperti 
nence. 

The  English  agents  availed  themselves  skilfully 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     207 

of  those  sentiments ;  sowing  suspicions,  fostering 
doubts,  and  not  shrinking,  there  is  strong  reason 
to  suppose,  from  gross  exaggeration  and  deliberate 
falsehood.  The  discussion  of  articles,  like  all  such 
discussions,  was  protracted  by  the  efforts  of  each 
party  to  make  the  best  terms,  and  the  concealing 
of  real  intentions  in  the  hope  of  extorting  greater 
concessions.  But  England  was  really  prepared  to 
yield  all  that  America  was  really  prepared  to  claim. 
France,  in  spite  of  the  suspicions  of  Adams  and 
Jay,  was  really  sincere  ;  and  on  the  30th  of  No 
vember,  1782,  the  preliminary  articles  were  signed. 

Franklin's  position  was  difficult  and  delicate. 
He  knew  the  importance  of  peace.  He  knew  that 
the  instructions  of  Congress  required  perfect  open 
ness  towards  the  French  Minister.  He  believed 
that  the  Minister  deserved,  both  by  his  past  kind 
ness  and  present  good  intentions,  to  be  treated  with 
perfect  openness.  But  both  his  colleagues  were 
against  him.  What  should  he  do  ?  Refer  the  dif 
ference  to  Congress,  and  meanwhile  hold  the  coun 
try  in  painful  and  expensive  suspense  ?  What 
could  he  do  but  submit,  as  he  had  done  through 
life,  to  the  circumstances  which  he  could  not  con 
trol,  and  give  the  appearance  of  unanimity  to  an 
act  which  the  good  of  his  country  required  to  be 
unanimous  ? 

He  signed  the  preliminaries,  and  submitted  to 
the  reproach  of  personal  and  public  ingratitude  as 
he  had  submitted  to  the  taunts  of  Wedderburn. 


208  LECTURE    VI. 

History  has  justified  bis  confidence  ;  the  most  care 
ful  research  having  failed  to  bring  to  light  any  con 
firmation  of  the  suspicions  of  his  colleagues.  And 
Vergennes,  though  nettled  for  the  moment,  under 
stood  Franklin's  position  too  well  to  lay  the  act  at 
his  door  as  an  expression  of  a  real  opinion.  Much 
time  and  long  discussions  were  still  required  to 
convert  the  preliminaries  into  a  final  treaty;  for 
the  complicated  interests  of  England,  France,  and 
Spain  were  to  be  taken  into  the  account.  But 
each  party  longed  for  peace ;  each  party  needed 
it;  and  on  the  3d  of  September,  1783,  another 
treaty  of  Paris  gave  once  more  the  short-lived 
though  precious  boon  to  Europe  and  America. 

During  Franklin's  residence  at  the  court  of 
France,  and  mainly  through  his  influence,  that 
court  had  advanced  to  Congress  three  millions  of 
livres  a  year  as  a  loan,  had  increased  it  to  four 
millions  in  1781,  had  the  same  year  added  six  mil 
lions  as  a  free  gift  to  the  three  millions  with  which 
she  began,  and  become  their  security  for  the  regu 
lar  payment  of  the  interest  upon  a  loan  of  ten 
millions  to  be  raised  in  Holland.* 

Nor  will  it  be  inappropriate  to  add  that  before 
he  sailed  upon  his  mission  to  France,  he  called  in 
all  the  money  he  could  command  in  specie  (be 
tween  three  and  four  thousand  pounds  in  all),  and 
put  it  into  the  public  treasury  as  a  loan ;  and  that 

*  In  all,  eighteen  millions  as  a  loan,  and  nine  millions  as  a 
free  gift. 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     209 

while  the  young  men,  Adams  and  Jay,  were  pro 
vided  with  competent  secretaries  of  legation,  he, 
though  bowed  down  by  age  and  disease,  and  with 
ten'  times  their  work  to  do,  was  left  to  his  own  re 
sources,  and,  but  for  the  assistance  of  his  grandson, 
would  have  been  compelled  to  do  it  all  with  his 
own  hand. 

It  has  been  said  that  a  soldier  accustomed  to  con 
quer  with  Claverhouse,  when,  under  a  new  leader, 
he  saw  victory  wavering  at  the  decisive  moment, 
exclaimed  in  his  indignation,  u  O  for  one  hour  of 
Dundee ! "  Might  not  we,  as  we  look  at  the 
clouds  which  lower  so  ominously  on  our  eastern 
horizon,  exclaim  with  equal  reason,  O  for  one 
hour  of  Franklin  ? 


LECTURE    VII. 

THE  ARMY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

THE  army  of  the  Revolution  !  What  remem 
brances  this  name  awakens  !  What  fireside 
tales,  charms  of  childhood,  stimulants  of  youth, 
fanning  the  flame  of  young  ambition,  kindling  the 
glow  of  early  patriotism,  come  crowding  upon  our 
memories  as  we  utter  these  words.  Many  of  us 
grew  up  in  the  midst  of  men  who  could  tell  us  all 
about  that  army;  who  could  tell  us  how  the  red 
coats  looked  as  they  marched  with  measured  tread, 
to  the  note  of  bugle  and  drum,  up  the  grassy  slope 
of  Bunker  Hill,  and  what  a  gleam  of  exultation 
flashed  along  the  American  line,  when,  through 
the  veil  uf  smoke,  the  broken  ranks  were  seen  rush 
ing  madly  towards  the  shore,  to  the  sharp,  quick 
ring  of  the  American  guns ;  who  remembered  the 
sad  march  through  the  Jerseys  ;  who  had  felt  the 
keen  December  blasts  of  Trenton,  and  the  keener 
tooth  of  hunger  on  the  bleak  hillside  of  Valley 
Forge  ;  who  had  looked  upon  the  face  of  Wash 
ington  in  gloom,  and  peril,  and  triumph.  These, 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          211 

for  many  of  us,  were  the  old  men  of  our  youth, 
men  with  a  wooden  leg,  or  a  single  arm,  or  a  sin 
gle  eye ;  some  of  them  with  a  deep  scar  on  their 
faces;  all  with  something  about  them  that  gave 
them  a  mysterious  power  over  our  young  im- 

aoinations,  and  bore  witness  to  their  tales  of  hard- 

o 

ship  and  danger.  But  now  that  questions  crowd 
upon  us  there  are  none  left  to  answer  them. 
Now,  when  often  a  single  word  would  solve  per 
plexing  doubts  and  set  a  whole  controversy  at  rest, 
the  thousand  lips  that  once  might  have  uttered  it 
are  sealed  forever.  Gone,  nearly  all  gone !  the 
few  that  remain,  eight  or  ten  at  the  utmost,  al 
ready  more  than  half  hidden  by  the  deepening 
shadows  of  the  grave.  Temper  the  chilling  dark 
ness  of  those  shadows  while  yet  you  may,  those  of 
you,  if  any  there  be,  who  live  where  kind  offices 
can  do  it ;  temper  it  with  soothing  words,  and 
gentle  acts,  and  that  reverence  which  is  so  grateful 
to  age;  for  generation  after  generation  may  pass 
away  before  the  world  shall  look  upon  such  men 
again. 

One  of  the  most  pernicious  errors  concerning 
America  into  which  the  English  government  was  led 
by  its  ill-informed  informers,  was,  that  there  was 
no  material  there  out  of  which  an  army  could  be 
made.  A  Colonel  Grant,  forgetting  how  the  reg 
ulars  had  run  at  the  Monongahela,  while  a  Virginia 
volunteer  was  vainly  endeavoring  to  rally  them 
and  Virginia  militiamen  were  holding  the  enemy 


212  LECTURE   VII. 

at  bay,  kept  Parliament  on  a  roar  with  ludicrous 
pictures  of  American  cowardice.  Voice  after  voice 
took  up  the  welcome  tale,  still  believed  by  British 
soldiers  when  they  marched  to  Concord,  and  not 
fully  disbelieved  till  they  had  marched  up  Bunker 
Hill.  No  country,  indeed,  ever  possessed  better 
materials  for  an  army  than  the  thirteen  Colonies ; 
hardy  yeomen,  robust  mechanics,  bold  sailors,  ac 
customed  from  boyhood  to  the  use  of  the  gun, 
accustomed  through  half  their  lives  to  long  jour 
neys  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  at  all  seasons  and  in 
all  weathers.  Hundreds  of  them  had  fought  by 
the  side  of  English  soldiers  in  the  old  French  war ; 
hundreds  more  had  fought  the  Indians  alone  in 
frontier  wars.  Tales  of  hair-breadth  escapes,  of 
perilous  marches,  of  patient  ambuscades,  of  all  the 
forms  of  primitive  warfare,  were  as  familiar  to  their 
winter-evening  firesides  as  Homer's  tale  of  Troy  to 
a  Greek  banquet.  "Washington's  name  had  reached 
the  royal  closet.  Putnam  was  already  the  hero 
of  many  stirring  legends.  Prescott  had  brought 
back  from  the  French  war  a  high  reputation  for 
gallantry.  Gridley  had  made  himself  a  name  at 
Louisburg  as  an  engineer  of  rare  attainments. 
Pomroy  had  taken  his  place  with  Ward  and  Stark ; 
while  scattered  over  the  country  were  hundreds 
less  known  than  they,  but  heroes,  each  of  them,  of 
his  own  village  circle.  There  was  not  a  well- 
fought  field  to  which  some  American  could  not 
point  with  pride.  There  were  dishonorable  fields 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          213 

on  which  none  but  Americans  had  preserved  their 
honor.  It  was  from  materials  like  these  that 
United  America  was  to  form  her  army.  It  was 
with  a  full  knowledge  that  these  materials  existed 
and  could  be  reached,  that  the  leaders  of  our  Rev 
olution  began  the  war. 

One  grave  doubt  may  have  occurred  to  some  of 
them.  Could  these  men,  admirable  as  they  were 
for  frontier  soldiers,  become  regular  soldiers? 
Did  not  their  habits  of  social  equality  unfit  them 
for  the  nice  distinctions  and  inflexible  lines  of  mil 
itary  subordination  ?  Would  they  obey,  as  a  soldier 
must  obey,  the  man  who  had  worked  by  their  sides 
in  the  cornfield  or  in  the  workshop,  and  who  owed 
his  epaulets  to  their  votes  ? 

Here,  indeed,  was  a  difficulty  inherent  in  the 
nature  of  the  people,  interwoven  with  their  virtues, 
deep  rooted  in  their  manners  and  customs,  their 
modes  of  action  and  their  modes  of  thought ;  act 
ing  unequally  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  it 
is  true ;  stronger  in  the  Eastern  States  than  in  the 
Middle  or  Southern  States ;  but  strong  enough  in 
all  to  awaken  serious  anxiety  in  those  who  saw 
from  the  beginning  that  the  war  was  to  be  fought 
with  trained  masses,  —  the  victory  to  be  won,  if 
won  at  all,  by  that  firm,  patient,  and  resolute  in 
trepidity  which  nothing  but  discipline  can  inspire. 

But  no  sooner  had  it  become  evident  that  force 
would  enter  into  the  dispute  than  the  people  had 
begun  to  prepare  themselves  for  their  part  by 


214  LECTURE   VII. 

forming  independent  companies  and  organizing  the 
militia.  Some  of  these  independent  companies 
were  drilled  by  British  deserters  ;  and  it  is  not 
one  of  the  least  characteristic  traditions  of  the 
period  that  a  young  Rhode  Island  Quaker,  who 
had  joined  one  of  them,  not  being  able  to  procure 
a  musket  at  home,  came  to  Boston  under  the 
pretext  of  collecting  an  old  debt,  attended  the 
morning  and  evening  drills  and  parades  of  the 
British  troops  till  his  eye  had  become  familiar  with 
their  evolutions,  and  carried  back  with  him  an 
English  sergeant  as  drill-master  for  his  company, 
and  an  English  musket  to  drill  with.  The  whole 
country  was  astir;  everywhere  musterings  and 
trainings,  everywhere  the  sound  of  fife  and  drum, 
eveiy where  the  hum  of  preparation. 

Massachusetts  organized  her  militia  in  October, 
1774,  and  out  of  her  militia  came  those  bands  of 
minute-men  who  did  such  good  service  during 
these  anxious  days.  A  name  well  known  after 
wards  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land,  the  name  of  Timothy  Pickering,  meets  us  for 
the  first  time,  in  connection  with  a  plan  for  drilling 
these  minute-men  in  battalions  and  paying  them 
out  of  the  public  treasury.  Their  drill  was  a 
social  and  religious  exercise,  followed  almost  always 
by  a  sermon  and  sometimes  by  a  banquet.  It  is 
almost  impossible  to  read  how  the  three  were 
mingled  and  not  think  of  the  solemn  banquets  of 
Homer's  Greeks  auspicated  by  sacrifice  and  liba- 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          215 

tion  and  prayer,  and  followed  by  an  impetuous 
rush  upon  the  enemy.  The  minister  descended 
from  the  pulpit  to  take  his  place  at  the  head  of  his 
company  or  even  in  the  ranks.  In  the  company 
of  minute-men  of  Danvers  the  deacon  was  cap 
tain  and  the  minister  lieutenant;  for  none,  in  those 
days,  seemed  to  doubt  that  duty  to  God  comprised 
duty  to  the  state  which  secured  them  the  privilege 
of  worshipping  God  according  to  their  own  inter 
pretation  of  his  word.  And  thus  it  came  to  pass 
that  when  the  alarm  was  sounded  on  the  night  of 
the  18th  of  April,  thousands  answered  the  call. 

Already,  ten  days  before  the  battle  of  Lexing 
ton,  the  Provincial  Congress  of  Massachusetts  had 
resolved  that  an  army  ought  to  be  raised,  and  had 
appointed  delegates  to  ask  New  Hampshire,  Rhode 
Island,  and  Connecticut  to  co-operate  with  them  in 
raising  it.  And  meeting  again  as  soon  as  they 
could  after  the  battle,  children  of  the  Puritans  as 
they  were,  the  knowledge  that  it  was  Sunday  did 
not  prevent  them  from  setting  themselves  earnest 
ly  to  their  work.  The  army  was  fixed  at  30,000 
men  ;  the  Massachusetts  contingent  at  13,600. 

But  already  the  army  was  gathering.  Already 
from  every  town  and  village  men  of  strong  hearts 
and  stern  resolve  were  crowding  the  roads  to  Bos 
ton.  The  plough  was  left  in  the  furrow,  the 
plane  on  the  work-bench.  Father  and  son  marched 
side  by  side ;  the  preacher  in  the  midst  of  his 
flock.  "  Numbers  passed  our  river  yesterday  at  the 


216  LECTURE    VII. 

upper  ferry,"  says  a  colonel  of  Newburyport,  writ 
ing  for  orders.  "  Four  companies  went  through  this 
town  on  their  way  to  you :  we  have  a  party  of  men 
from  this  town ;  upwards  of  one  hundred  on  their 
march  to  you."  And  not  from  Massachusetts  only. 
"  The  ardor  of  our  people  is  such  that  they  can 
not  be  kept  back,"  writes  the  Committee  of  Cor 
respondence  from  Connecticut. 

The  fight  was  still  going  on  when  the  tidings 
that  the  British  were  out  reached  Rhode  Island. 
In  the  placid  little  hamlet  of  East  Greenwich  the 
Kentish  Guards  were  instantly  mustered,  and,  push 
ing  forward,  had  already  reached  the  banks  of  the 
Pawtucket,  when  an  order  from  the  Tory  Gover 
nor,  Wanton,  called  them  back.  Two  of  them, 
recent  outcasts  from  the  Quaker  meeting,  held  on, 
and  arrived  at  Roxbury  in  time  to  see  the  inpour- 
ing  of  the  yeomanry,  and  hear  lips,  still  stern  with 
the  excitement  of  battle,  describe  the  disastrous 
flio-ht  of  the  British  and  the  eager  pursuit  of  the 
Americans.  By  the  21st,  twenty  thousand  men 
were  assembled. 

O  for  a  warning  voice,  a  voice  from  history,  a 
voice  from  philosophy,  a  voice  from  some  one  read 
in  the  contradictions  of  the  human  heart,  to  say  to 
their  leaders,  "  now  is  your  time  :  make  sure  of 
them  all  for  the  war,  the  whole  war,  in  this,  the 
moment  of  fiery  enthusiasm ;  for  too  surely  will 
the  moment  of  discouragement  follow,  when  the 
stout-hearted  will  hesitate,  the  faint-hearted  will 


ARMY   OF   THE   REVOLUTION.          217 

turn  back."  But  no  such  voice  was  heard.  "  If 
I  have  not  enlisting  orders  immediately,"  writes 
Ward  on  the  24th,  "  I  shall  be  left  alone."  The 
orders  came :  the  enlistments  began ;  the  rolls 
were  filled  ;  but  not  for  the  war. 

Here,  then,  is  the  first,  the  fundamental  error: 
an  error  never  to  be  repaired.  You  will  readily 
understand  why  men  fell  into  this  error.  They 
did  not  believe  that  the  war  would  last.  They  did 
not  see  whither  the  road  they  had  entered  on  would 
necessarily  lead  them.  "A  few  acts  of  firmness," 
said  the  King  and  his  ministers,  "  and  the  Colonists 
will  submit."*  "A  resolute,  unanimous  resist 
ance,"  said  the  Colonists,  "  and  the  King  and  his 
ministers  will  give  way."  Equal  short-sightedness, 
equal  infatuation  on  both  sides,  and  an  eight  years' 
war  for  illustration  and  commentary.! 

Who  should  command  this  motley  army,  was 
one  of  the  first  questions  that  presented  itself;  who 
should  clothe  and  feed  it,  was  another.  Con  cress 
had  not  yet  adopted  it.  Massachusetts  had  called 
for  it :  but  still  it  was  the  army  of  Massachusetts, 
with  the  equally  independent  armies  of  New 
Hampshire,  of  Connecticut,  and  of  Rhode  Island, 
for  voluntary  auxiliaries.  Gradually,  as  the  neces 
sity  of  a  single  head  came  to  be  felt,  General  Ward, 
the  Massachusetts  general,  was  accepted  as  com- 

*  Washington  to  Bryan  Fairfax  (Works,  Vol.  V.  p.  248). 
t  See  particularly  a  letter  of  R.  H.  Lee  to  Washington  (Sparks's 
Correspondence  of  the  Revolution,  I.  52). 
10 


218  LECTURE    VII. 

mander-in-chief.  But  each  Colony  continued  to 
provide  for  its  own  men. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  something  more  was 
required  to  infuse  a  spirit  of  unity  into  elements 
like  these.  There  could  be  no  strength  without 
union,  and  of  union  the  only  adequate  representa 
tive  was  the  Continental  Congress.  To  induce  the 
Congress  to  adopt  the  army  in  the  name  of  the 
United  Colonies  was  one  of  the  objects  towards 
which  John  Adams  soon  directed  his  attention. 
With  the  question  of  adoption  came  the  question  of 
commander-in-chief:  and  here  personal  ambition 
and  sectional  jealousies  manifest  themselves  in  ways 
whereon  it  would  be  useful  to  dwell. 

Washington's  was,  of  course,  the  first  name  that 
occurred  to  Northern  and  Southern  men  alike  ;  for 
it  was  the  only  name  that  had  won  a  continental 
reputation.  But  some  New-England  men  thought 
that,  this  New-England  army  would  do  better  ser 
vice  under  a  New-England  commander  ;  and  some 
Southern  men  were  not  prepared  to  see  Washing 
ton  put  so  prominently  forward.  Then  New  Eng 
land  was  divided  against  herself.  Ward  had  warm 
advocates,  and  John  Hancock  had  aspirations  for 
the  high  place  which  were  not  always  concealed 
from  the  keen  eyes  of  his  colleagues.  Among 
Washington's  opponents  were  some  "  of  his  own 
household,"  Pendleton  of  Virginia  being  the  most 
persistent  of  them  all.  At  last  John  Adams 
moved  to  adopt  the  army,  and  appoint  a  general ; 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          219 

and  a  few  days  after  —  Thursday,  the  5th  of  June, 
the  interval  having  been  actively  used  to  win  over 
the  little  band  of  dissenters  —  Washington  was 
chosen  by  a  unanimous  vote. 

The  next  day  the  organization  of  the  army  was 
reduced  to  a  definite  plan,  two  major-generals, 
eight  brigadiers,  with  an  adjutant-general,  a  quar 
termaster-general,  a  paymaster-general,  and  a  chief 
engineer.  On  the  19th,  the  number  of  major- 
generals  was  raised  to  four. 

It  was  not  without  new  heart-burnings  that  these 
lists  were  filled  up.  Ward,  though  propitiated 
with  the  first  place  on  the  roll  of  major-generals, 
could  not  forget  that  he  once  cherished  aspirations 
to  a  place  still  higher.  John  Hancock  is  said  nev 
er  to  have  felt  cordially  towards  John  Adams  after 
the  day  which  had  nipped  his  hopes  of  military 
glory  so  remorselessly  in  the  bud.  Spencer  was 
unwilling  to  make  way  for  Putnam ;  Thomas,  for 
Pomroy.  Similar  pretensions  and  similar  piques 
displayed  themselves  as  the  work  of  organization 
went  on.  There  were  discontented  colonels  as 
well  as  discontented  generals  ;  captains  who  would 
have  been  colonels,  and  lieutenants  who  thought 
it  hard  that  they  were  not  made  captains. 
Harder  still  was  it  for  a  Massachusetts  soldier  to 
serve  under  an  officer  from  Rhode  Island  ;  a  New- 
Hampshire  soldier  under  an  officer  from  Connecti 
cut.*  Hardest  of  all,  when,  at  a  later  day,  New- 

*  Washington  to  Reed,  November  8,  1775  (Sparks,  III.  151); 
also,  December  25,  1775  (Ibid.,  III.  214). 


220  LECTURE    VII. 

Yorkers  and  Permsylvanians  and  the  aristocratic 
Marylanders,  with  their  smart  uniforms  and  soldier 
ly  bearing,  found  themselves  mixed  up  with  the 
plain  democratic  farmers  of  New  England. 

It  was  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  2d 
of  July,  that  Washington  reached  Cambridge. 
You  all  know  where  his  head-quarters  were.*  You 
all  know  what  rich  associations  have  been  added 
to  the  associations  which  his  nine  months  going  in 
and  out  thereat  have  given  those  doors.  You  all 
know  that  words  of  classic  eloquence  have  been 
written  under  that  hallowed  roof;  that  Washing- 

*  "Who  will  gather  the  mosses  from  this  old  manse,  and  tell 
us  the  story  of  the  Colonial  days  of  the  wealthy  Vassal,  —  of  the 
siege  of  Boston  days,  with  Washington  for  the  central  figure,  — 
of  the  early  days  of  the  Republic,  when  Craigie  sat  at  the  head 
of  the  hoard,  and  Talleyrand  was  his  guest,  —  of  the  later  day, 
when  Everett  collected  his  little  class  of  advanced  Grecians 
around  him  in  the  southeast  room  on  the  first  floor,  Emerson 
among  them,  —  when  Sparks,  first  of  our  true  laborers,  set  him 
self  to  the  illustration  of  our  Revolutionary  history  by  documents, 
and  wrote  the  life  of  Washington  in  the  very  place  in  which 
Washington  had  passed  some  of  its  most  memorable  hours,  — 
and,  last  of  all,  of  the  days  of  "  Hyperion,"  and  "  Evangeline," 
and  "  Hiawatha,"  days  of  earnest  thought  and  deep  feeling,  which 
have  found  expression  in  imperishable  verse,  and  of  genial  inter 
course  which  gives  us  pleasant  glimpses  of  Hawthorne  and  Fel- 
ton  and  Agassiz  and  the  two  Sumners  —  now,  alas  !  but  one  —  and 
Lowell  and  Holmes  and  Curtis  and  Read  and  Norton  and  Fields, 
and  of  pilgrims,  too,  from  afar  off  in  our  own  broad  land  and 
from  still  farther  beyond  the  sea,  who  have  come  to  look  upon 
the  great  poet  in  his  home  and  thank  him  for  the  noble  words  he 
has  written  for  the  cheering  and  consolation  of  his  brother  man? 


ARMY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          221 

ton's  own  words  and  the  record  of  Washington's 
acts  have  come  thence  in  enduring  forms  to  take 
their  place  at  the  head  of  the  monuments  of  our 
history ;  and  that  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night, 
voices  of  tender  melody  have  borne  from  it  sooth 
ing  to  the  sorrowful,  strength  to  the  weak,  heav 
enward  aspirations  to  those  who  had  looked  too 
steadfastly  upon  earth  ;  lessons  that  have  mingled 
harmoniously  with  the  kindred  teachings  of  Words 
worth  and  Tennyson  ;  which  have  been  welcomed 
by  ears  familiar  with  the  lines  of  Goethe  and  Schil 
ler  ;  and  ever  true  to  the  universal  language  of 
the  heart,  retain  their  power  to  purify  and  inspire 
in  the  tongue  of  Dante  and  Petrarch. 

Washington's  first  call  was  for  the  returns  of  his 
army.  They  gave  him  16,770  in  all ;  fit  for  duty, 
13,743.  Never  had  their  spirits  been  higher.  Of 
ficers  and  men  seemed  to  catch  a  new  enthusiasm 
from  his  presence ;  for  men  know  when  they  have 
a  ma»  at  their  head,  and  no  one  doubted  but  what 
there  was  a  man  there  now.  Every  day  he  was 
among  them  on  his  mettled  charger,  his  command 
ing  form  towering  above  every  other  in  its  blue 
and  buff,  with  rich  epaulets  on  each  shoulder,  a 
cockade  in  his  hat,  and  by  his  side  a  sword  already 
tried  in  battle.  War  had  not  yet  put  on  all  its 
terrors.  There  were  some  men  killed  from  time 
to  time ;  there  were  some  wounded ;  breastworks 
and  redoubts  blocked  up  the  fields  and  highways ; 
and  here  and  there  cannon  looked  down  from  their 


222  LECTURE   VII. 

embrasures  with  a  frown,  and  muskets  gleamed 
menacingly  above  a  parapet.  But  it  was  the  open 
ing  of  a  noble  epic,  when  the  feelings  are  yet  calm 
enough  to  allow  the  eye  to  dwell  thoughtfully  upon 
the  novel  beautv  of  the  scene. 

%/ 

The  hills  lay  all  round  the  beleaguered  city  as 
they  lie  there  now.  Thousands  of  trees  that  have 
long  since  disappeared  mingled  their  luxuriant  fo 
liage  in  grateful  shades.  The  green  grass  was 
springing  abundantly ;  and  as  the  English  looked 
out  from  their  prison-house,  they  saw  .village  spires, 
and  cottage-roofs,  and  those  sweet  aspects  of  na 
ture  which  fill  the  heart  with  longings  for  peace 
and  rest.  But  all  over  those  enamelled  fields,  and 
all  over  those  green  hillsides,  were  thousands  of 
little  fabrics  suddenly  called  into  life  by  the  wants 
of  the  hour ;  huts  decked  with  boughs  and  branches  ; 
huts  formed  of  interwoven  branches  and  thatched 
writh  leaves  ;  huts  of  logs,  board,  stone,  turf,  brush; 
—  melting  into  the  landscape  as  if  they  had  always 
formed  a  part  of  it,  but  with  now  and  then  a  flash 
of  steel,  or  a  tap  of  a  drum,  or  a  blast  of  bugle 
from  among  them,  which  reminded  you  startlingly 
of  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  there.  In  one 
part,  too,  ranged  in  the  measured  lines  of  a  regu 
lar  encampment,  were  real  tents  and  real  marquees, 
where  the  Rhode-Islanders  were  fast  making  them 
selves  real  soldiers  under  the  eye  of  their  Quaker 
general. 

Is  it  hard  to  divine  the  feelings  with  which  the 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          223 

Americans  looked  on  their  devoted  town,  as  they 
called  to  mind  all  that  she  had  done  for  their  holy 
cause,  all  that  she  had  suffered  rather  than  yield  ? 
And  as  the  morning  gun  waked  the  echoes  of  the 
hills,  and  trumpet  and  drum  frightened  the  birds 
from  their  early  song,  may  not  some  indignant  son 
of  the  Puritans  have  added  a  war-hymn  to  his 
prayers,  in  words,  perhaps,  like  these  ?  — 

O  never,  never,  never, 

Shall  you  bend  us  to  your  will ; 
Though  your  giant  arm  may  crush  us, 

We  will  scorn  and  hate  you  still ! 

The  souls  that  we  inherit 

Fear  not  the  conqueror's  chain; 
However  firm  your  fetters, 

We  will  tear  them  oft'  again  ! 

Where'er  a  mountain  rears  its  head 

We  '11  fight  like  mountaineers  ; 
Where'er  a  valley  opes  its  arms, 
"  We'll  gird  it  with  our  spears. 

On  every  river-bank  we  '11  rear 

A  bulwark  of  the  slain  ; 
And  fire  and  sword  shall  guard  our  homes. 

Till  we  come  back  again. 

On,  then,  to  Freedom's  battle  ! 

Gray  sires  and  striplings,  —  all ! 
Free  homes  shall  welcome  those  who  live, 

And  angels  those  who  fall. 

Summer  wore  away.     Autumn  came  with  chil 
ling,  precursory  blasts,  soon  to  grow  chiller  as  they 


224  LECTURE   VTI. 

flew  over  the  snow.  The  leaves  withered  on  win 
dow  and  doorway ;  the  thatch  fell  from  the  roof. 
Men's  hearts  fainted  within  them.  They  remem 
bered  their  cheerful  firesides,  their  huskings  and 
merry-makings ;  how  pleasant  it  had  been  in  othei 
days  to  fill  up  the  barn  and  crib  till  the  corn  and 
the  grain  ran  over ;  how  the  cider  had  flowed  in 
rivulets  from  their  apple-presses.  They  bethought 
them  too  of  the  wives  and  children  that  looked  to 
them  for  food  and  protection,  and  they  sighed  for 
home.  Had  there  been  battles  and  marches  to 
vary  the  scene,  they  might  have  found  relief  in 
the- excitement.  But  this  dull  monotony  of  camp- 
life  fell  with  double  weight  upon  men  accustomed 
to  work  all  day  in  the  occupations  of  their  choice, 
and  go  home  at  night  to  a  cheerful  fire  and  abun 
dant  table.  The  poetry  was  gone  ;  the  hard,  stern 
prose  was  there,  never  harder,  never  sterner,  than 
when  strong  men  suffer  want  and  privation  to 
gether.  As  winter  advanced  their  sufferings  in 
creased.  They  suffered  from  want  of  clothing, 
and  still  more  from  want  of  wood.  Trees  were  cut 
down,  fences  pulled  up,  everything  that  could  be 
made  to  burn  was  converted  into  fuel ;  and  still, 
hundreds  were  compelled  to  eat  their  food  raw. 
And  to  complete  the  picture,  I  must  reluctantly 
add  that  those  who  had  wood,  or  clothing,  or  pro 
visions  to  sell,  asked  the  highest  prices  and  de 
manded  the  promptest  payment. 

From  the  beo-mnincr  Washington  ]iad  called  the 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          225 

attention  of  Congress  to  the  condition  of  the  army, 
and  as  winter  approached  his  calls  grew  more  ur 
gent.  He  had  found  it  impossible  to  induce  either 
officers  or  soldiers  to  subscribe  the  Articles  of  War. 
He  had  been  compelled  to  assume  the  responsibil 
ity  of  settling  the  rank  of  the  officers,  and  number 
ing  the  regiments.  The  terms  of  enlistment  of 
the  Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut  troops  expired 
on  the  1st  of  December.  None  were  bound  be 
yond  the  1st  of  January.  Yet  it  was  not  till  the 
middle  of  October  that  a  committee  of  Congress 
came  to  Cambridge  and  set  itself  seriously  to  the 
task  of  reorganization.  The  subject  had  already 
been  considered  in  a  council  of  war,  and  the  coun 
cil  and  committee  agreed  in  fixing  the  number  of 
regiments  at  twenty-six,  exclusive  of  riflemen  and 
artillery ;  each  regiment  to  consist  of  eight  compa 
nies,  and  the  whole  to  compose  an  army  of  20,372 
men  to  face  the  English  in  Boston. 

It  was  evident  that  a  portion  of  the  new  army 
must  be  drawn  from  the  old.  But  would  men 
with  such  experience  of  war  as  our  soldiers  were 
now  going  through  be  willing  to  go  through  it 
again  ? 

It  was  equally  evident  that  every  enlistment 
ought  to  be  made  for  the  war,  and  every  nerve 
strained  to  form  a  permanent  army.  "  If  Congress 
had  given  a  large  bounty,  and  engaged  the  soldiery 
during  the  war,"  wrote  General  Greene  in  Decem 
ber,  "  the  continent  would  be  much  securer,  and 

10*  o 


226  LECTURE    VII. 

the  measure  cheaper  in  the  end."  But  Congress 
was  still  groping  in  the  dark,  wasting  time  and 
energy  in  discussions  and  half-measures,  —  the  un 
conscious  victim  of  two  fatal  errors,  —  sectional  jeal 
ousies  and  the  dread  of  a  standing  army.  An 
army  raised,  paid,  clothed,  fed,  disciplined,  and  gov 
erned  in  the  name  of  Congress,  seemed  to  some  a 
dangerous  encroachment  upon  State  rights ;  to 
others,  a  dangerous  weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  suc 
cessful  general.  "  If  our  enemies  prevail,  which 
our  dissensions  may  occasion,"  wrote  Governor 
Trumbull  of  Connecticut,  "  our  jealousies  will  then 
appear  frivolous,  and  all  our  disputed  claims  of  no 
value  to  either  side."  "  The  fate  of  kingdoms  de 
pends  upon  the  just  improvement  of  critical  mo 
ments,"  wrote  General  Greene.  .  ,  .  "  The  temper 
and  feelings  of  men  can  be  wrought  up  to  a  certain 
pitch,  and  then,  like  all  transitory  things,  they  sick 
en  and  subside.  This  is  the  time  for  a  wise  legis 
lator  to  avail  himself  of  the  advantage  which  the 
favorable  disposition  of  the  people  gives  him,  to 
execute  whatever  sound  policy  dictates.  It  is  not 
in  the  province  of  mortals  to  reduce  human  events 
in  politics  to  a  certainty.  It  is  our  duty  to  provide 
the  means  to  obtain  our  ends,  and  leave  the  event 
to  Him  who  is  the  all-wise  governor  and  disposer 
of  the  universe."  Many,  too,  were  terrified  at 
the  expense.  "What  signifies  our  being  fright 
ened  at  the  expense  ?  "  wrote  General  Greene  ; 
"  if  we  succeed,  we  gain  all ;  if  we  are  conquered, 


ARMY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.          227 

we  lose  all."  And  speaking  of  Colonial  jealousies, 
"  It  grieves  me  that  such  jealousies  should  prevail. 
If  they  are  nourished,  they  will  sooner  or  later  sap 
the  foundations  of  the  Union  and  dissolve  the  con 
nection.  God  in  mercy  avert  so  dreadful  an  evil." 

But  while  some  clearer  minds  saw  things  in 
their  true  light,  the  public  mind  had  not  yet  been 
thoroughly  awakened  to  a  perception  of  duties  or 
responsibilities,  and  Congress  seldom  ventured  far 
in  advance  of  the  public  mind.  Therefore  the 
new  army,  like  the  old,  was  enlisted  for  a  limited 
period. 

Fortunately,  the  feeling  in  the  country  was  still 
strong.  In  December,  when  the  Connecticut  troops 
went  home  "  by  shoals,"  the  people  on  the  road 
refused  to  give  them  food  or  shelter.  Many  of  the 
old  soldiers  were  ready  to  enlist  for  another  year, 
but  asked  a  short  furlough  before  they  returned  to 
duty.  Never  were  Washington  and  his  generals 
less  to  be  envied  than  during  the  autumn  and  win 
ter  of  1775,  with  an  old  army  to  disband  and  a 
new  army  to  enroll  within  point-blank  shot  of  an 
enemy  perfectly  armed  and  disciplined,  and  led  by 
experienced  officers.*  Howe's  blindness  is  almost 
incredible.  But  Washington's  calm  self-possession 
is  sublime. 

All  through  October  and  November  the  work  of 

*  For  some  of  the  difficulties  referred  to,  see  Washington's 
letter  to  the  President  of  Congress.  (Sparks,  III.  156  ;  Corre 
spondence  of  Kev.,  I.  82.) 


228  LECTURE   VII. 

enlistment  went  on;  sometimes  so  briskly  as  to 
awaken  strong  hopes ;  sometimes  so  slowly  as  to 
excite  serious  apprehensions.  Dissatisfied  officers 
discouraged  enlistments.  Important  as  it  was  to 
conciliate  the  good  will  of  the  old  troops,  the  dearth 
of  arms  was  so  great,  that  on  dismissing  the  men 
it  was  found  necessary  to  retain  their  arms  without 
regard  to  the  distinction  between  public  and  pri 
vate  property.  Often,  too,  the  price  set  upon  them 
by  the  public  appraisers  fell  below  the  original  cost. 
And  of  the  arms  thus  hardly  got,  half  were  mere 
fowling-pieces  of  different  bores,  and  nearly  all  of 
them  without  bayonets. 

At  last  December  came.  The  militia  was  called 
in  to  take  the  place  of  the  disbanded  troops.  Ev 
erything  was  confusion  and  disorder.  But  in  spite 
of  confusion  and  disorder  and  discouragement, 
Washington  went  calmly  on,  the  old  army  was 
dissolved,  and  by  the  beginning  of  the  year  a  new 
army  had  taken  its  place. 

And  thus  ended  the  first  army  of  the  Revolution. 
Hurriedly  formed  in  an  hour  of  intense  excitement, 
composed  principally  of  farmers  and  mechanics, 
men  of  some  means  and  accustomed  to  labor,  it 
had  never  acquired  much  skill  of  evolution  or 
much  exactness  of  discipline  ;  it  had  fought  no 
battles  after  Bunker  Hill,  had  made  no  marches  or 
expeditions ;  but  it  had  kept  a  veteran  army,  sup 
ported  by  a  large  fleet,  closely  penned  up  for  eight 
months  within  the  limits  of  a  small  town ;  had 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          229 

effectually  cut  off  their  supplies  and  rendered  their 
superiority  of  equipments  and  discipline  useless  ; 
and  when  it  passed  away,  it  contributed  a  large 
body  of  its  best  and  ablest  men  as  a  nucleus  for 
the  formation  of  the  army  of  1776. 

This  army  of  '76,  with  reinforcements  of  militia 
and  additional  regiments  from  the  Middle  States, 
was  the  army  with  which  Washington  made  his 
wonderful  retreat  from  Long  Island  and  fought  the 
battle  of  White  Plains.  Sickness,  battle,  detach 
ments,  desertion,  expiration  of  service,  had  sadly 
thinned  its  ranks  when  it  made  its  memorable 
retreat  through  the  Jerseys.  But  it  surprised  the 
Hessians  at  Trenton ;  defeated  the  British  at 
Princeton  ;  and  accomplished  those  brilliant  move 
ments  which,  even  without  Yorktown,  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  establish  Washington's  claim 
to  military  genius  of  the  highest  order.  Nor 
should  it  be  forgotten  that  at  the  most  critical  mo 
ment  of  the  campaign,  when  the  terms  of  service 
of  the  New-England  regiments  was  about  to  ex 
pire,  instead  of  marching  off  as  they  might  have 
done  "'to  the  music  of  the  enemy's  cannon," 
they  engaged  for  six  weeks  of  winter  service  and 
stood  by  their  General  until  he  had  taken  up  his 
strong  position  at  Morristown  and  the  enemy  had 
gone  into  winter  quarters. 

During  the  whole  of  this  momentous  year 
Washington  had  been  exerting  all  his  influence  to 
convince  Congress  of  the  impossibility  of  carrying 


230  LECTURE    VII. 

on  such  a  war  as  that  which  they  were  engaged  in, 
by  means  of  militia  and  troops  enlisted  for  so  short 
a  period  as  to  make  them  almost  as  unsusceptible 
of  discipline  and  as  unfit  for  the  execution  of  ex 
tensive  plans  as  the  militia  itself.  Forty-seven 
thousand  Continentals  and  twenty-seven  thousand 
militia  had  been  in  service  during  the  year ;  and 
yet  on  the  2d  of  January,  1777,  when  he  began 
his  night  march  upon  Princeton,  five  thousand  men, 
more  than  half  of  them  militia,  were  all  that  he 
could  muster.  It  seems  strange  to  us,  as  we  look 
back  upon  these  events,  that,  with  such  work  be 
fore  it,  Congress  could  have  hesitated  a  moment 
about  the  proper  way  of  doing  it.  The  British 
regulars  were  now  backed  by  German  regulars, 
men  trained  in  the  strictest  school  of  military  dis 
cipline.  It  was  only  by  disciplined  men  that  such 
men  could  be  met  upon  equal  terms ;  and  discipline 
is  the  work  of  time.  When  the  American  recruits 
came  in,  they  had  barely  time  to  learn  their  places 
in  the  ranks  before  they  were  called  upon  for  active 
service.  And  by  the  time  that  they  had  made 
themselves  familiar  with  the  duties  of  a  camp  and 
learnt  the  first  rudiments  of  military  evolutions, 
their  term  of  enlistment  was  ended.  The  militia 
brought  with  them  not  only  the  ignorance  of  re 
cruits,  but  an  aversion  to  every  form  of  restraint. 
Accustomed  at  home  to  come  and  go  as  they 
pleased,  they  could  not  see  why  their  freedom  of 
action  should  be  restrained  in  camp.  Accustomed 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          21 

to  use  their  own  powder  freely,  they  made  free  with 
the  powder  of  Congress.  Inexperienced  in  the 
details  of  camp  life,  they  consumed  more  food  and 
wasted  more  supplies  than  would  have  supported 
twice  their  number  of  regular  troops  for  twice  the 
time.  And  when  their  time  was  out,  they  seldom 
hesitated  to  sacrifice  the  most  important  public  in 
terests  to  their  individual  rights.  Uncertain  in  bat 
tle,  fighting  at  times  with  the  boldness  of  veterans, 
running  at  times  before  they  came  within  gunshot 
of  the  enemy,  they  were  equally  unreliable  for 
complicated  movements  or  bold  assaults ;  nor  was 
it  the  least  of  their  defects  that  in  serving  with 
regulars  they  communicated  to  them  the  conta 
gion  of  their  own  irregular  and  improvident  habits. 
If  there  is  a  lesson  perpetually  inculcated  in  the 
letters  of  Washington  and  his  best  officers,  it  is  the 
folly  and  extravagance,  the  waste  of  property  and 
the  waste  of  life,  of  carrying  on  a  war  by  means  of 
temporary  levies  and  raw  recruits. 

Congress  saw  its  error,  but  saw  it  too  late.  The 
favorable  moment  was  past,  and  past  beyond  recall. 
The  new  committee  came  prepared  to  adopt  all 
Washington's  plans,  —  but  these  plans  could  no 
longer  be  carried  out.  They  resolved  to  raise  an 
army  of  66,000  men ;  divided  not  by  regiments, 
but  battalions ;  and  shortly  afterwards,  at  Wash 
ington's  earnest  request,  sixteen  battalions  of 
foot,  with  three  regiments  of  artillery,  three  thou 
sand  light  horse,  and  a  corps  of  engineers,  were 


232  LECTURE    VII. 

added.  It  was  also  resolved  that  the  enlistments 
should  be  made  for  the  war,  and  to  hasten  them, 
a  bounty  of  twenty  dollars  on  enlisting,  and  a 
grant  of  a  hundred  acres  of  land  at  the  close  of 
the  war,  were  offered  to  privates,  and  proportion 
ate  grants  of  land  to  officers.  But  it  was  soon 
found  that  men  were  unwilling  to  enlist  for  the 
war,  and  accordingly  an  optional  term  of  three 
years  without  the  hundred  acres  of  land  was 
agreed  upon.  But  now  three  years  seemed  long. 
The  rolls  filled  up  slowly,  very  slowly,  and  this 
grand  army  was  little  more  than  an  army  upon 
paper. 

It  was  found  necessary  to  take  men  upon  their 
own  terms.  The  army  still  continued  to  be  a 
body  of  men  brought  together  for  unequal  periods, 
some  for  nine  months,  some  for  three,  some  for  a 
year,  some  for  three  years,  and  a  few  for  the  war ; 
with  a  discipline  so  imperfect,  that  to  eyes  accus 
tomed  to  Prussian  discipline  it  seemed  anarchy ; 
with  such  irregularity  of  administration,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  form  any  idea  of  its  numbers  from  its 
muster-rolls  or  the  reports  of  its  officers  ;  so  imper 
fectly  clad,  that  out  of  9,000  men  there  were  at 
one  time  3,989  unable  to  go  upon  duty  for  want 
of  clothing ;  and  so  imperfectly  armed,  that  "  mus 
kets,  carbines,  fowling-pieces,  and  rifles  were  to 
be  seen  in  the  same  company,"  and  these  too  for 
the  most  part  "covered  with  rust,  and  writh  many" 
from  which  not  a  single  shot  could  be  fired  with 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          233 

safety.*  A  regiment  might  contain  any  number 
of  platoons,  from  three  to  twenty-one ;  sometimes 
it  was  stronger  than  a  brigade ;  and  one  instance 
is  recorded  in  which  there  were  but  thirty  men  in 
a  regiment,  and  one  man  in  a  company,  and  that 
man  a  corporal.  Manoeuvres  were  out  of  the 
question.  The  whole  drill  consisted  of  the  manual 
exercise,  and  for  this  every  colonel  had  a  sys 
tem  of  his  own.  The  only  point  upon  which  they 
were  all  agreed  was  on  marching  in  Indian  file. 

But  if  the  changes  made  by  Congress  failed  to 
reach  these  evils,  they  were,  with  the  exception  of 
the  deep-rooted  evil  of  short  enlistments,  and  defi 
cient  clothing,  all  reached  and  all  corrected  by  the 
knowledge  and  energy  of  one  man.  Of  this  man, 
Baron  Steuben,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak 
more  fully  in  another  lecture.  But  his  name 
meets  us  here  as  the  author  of  that  decisive  revo 
lution  which  converted  the  motley  band  that  had 
crouched  more  like  beasts  than  like  men  in  the 
huts  of  Valley-  Forge  into  the  trained  soldiers  who 
manoeuvred  and  fought  with  the  precision  and 
firmness  of  veterans  on  the  bloody  field  of  Mon- 
mouth.  The  spring  of  1778  was  the  decisive 
epoch  in  the  history  of  the  American  army.  All 
the  objections  that  had  been  drawn  from  the  na 
ture  of  our  institutions  and  the-  habits  of  our  peo 
ple  were  fully  met.  It  was  seen  that  they  could 

*  Important  details  upon  this  subject  may  be  found  in  Kapp's 
Life  of  Steuben. 


234  LECTURE    VII. 

submit  to  discipline  without  sacrificing  their  inde 
pendence,  and  learn  to  move  like  machines  without 
impairing  their  energy  of  will.  "  You  say  to  your 
soldier,"  wrote  Steuben  to  a  Prussian  officer,  "  Do 
this,  and  he  doeth  it.  But  I  am  obliged  to  say  to 
mine,  This  is  the  reason  why  you  ought  to  do 
that,  and  then  he  does  it."  Henceforth  we  begin 
to  find  uniformity  of  discipline,  uniformity  of  drill, 
uniformity  of  manoeuvres  ;  a  system  of  reports 
which  enabled  a  commander  to  see  at  once  how 
many  men  he  could  count  upon  for  active  service ; 
a  system  of  inspection  which  saved  the  coun 
try  $  600,000  in  arms  and  accoutrements  alone. 
The  ranks,  it  is  true,  still  remained  thin.  The 
army  in  the  field  still  fell  far  short  of  the  army 
voted  by  Congress.  The  men  were  still  badly 
clothed.  Officers  might  still,  perhaps,  be  seen, 
as  they  had  been  seen  at  Valley  Forge,  "  mounting 
guard  in  a  dressing-gown  made  of  an  old  woollen 
blanket  or  bed-cover !  "  But  officers  and  men 
knew  their  duty  and  did  it.  Without  ceasing  to 
be  citizens,  they  became  soldiers  ;  proud  of  their 
regiment,  attached  to  their  profession ;  accepting 
without  a  murmur  the  "  iron  despotism "  which 
Washington  himself  had  declared  to  be  the  only 
system  by  which  an  army  could  be  governed ;  and 
so  thoroughly  trained,  even  in  complicated  ma 
noeuvres,  that  Steuben,  the  severest  of  judges,  de 
clared  himself  willing  to  put  them,  in  every  thing 
but  clothing,  side  by  side  with  the  veterans  of 
France. 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          235 

The  whole  number  of  continental  soldiers  em 
ployed  during  the  war  was  231,971,  of  whom 
Massachusetts  alone  furnished  67,907.  The  v:hole 
number  of  militia  called  into  service  has  been 
estimated  at  56,163,  although  there  are  good 
grounds  for  believing  that  it  was  somewhat  larger. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  privations  and 
sufferings  of  the  army  of  the  Revolution.  It  is 
difficult  to  speak  of  them  without,  at  least,  an  ap 
pearance  of  exaggeration :  and  yet  the  testimony 
is  so  uniform,  the  details  are  so  minute  and  so 
authentic,  that  the  strongest  coloring  would  fall 
short  of  the  dark  reality.  These  sufferings  began 
with  the  beginning  of  the  war,  and  continued  to 
the  end  of  it.  During  the  first  winter,  soldiers 
thought  it  hard  that  they  often  had  nothing  to  cook 
their  food  with  ;  but  they  found  before  its  close 
that  it  was  harder  still  to  have  nothing  to  cook. 

o 

Few  Americans  had  ever  known  what  it  was  to 
suffer  for  want  of  clothing ;  but  thousands,  as  the 
war  went  on,  saw  their  garments  falling  by  piece 
meal  from  around  them,  till  scarce  a  shred  re 
mained  to  cover  their  nakedness.  They  made 
long  marches  without  shoes,  staining  the  frozen 
ground  with  the  blood  from  their  feet.  They 
fought  battles  with  guns  that  were  hardly  safe  to 
bear  a  half-charge  of  powder.  They  fought,  or 
marched,  or  worked  on  intrenchments,  all  day, 
and  laid  them  down  at  night  with  but  one  blanket 
to  three  men.  And  thus  in  rags,  without  shoes, 


236  LECTURE    VII. 

often  without  bread,  they  fought  battles  and  won 
campaigns.  They  marched  from  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson  to  the  banks  of  the  Brandy  wine,  —  hung 
upon  the  flank  of  the  victorious  British  ;  and  when 
the  enemy  thought  themselves  firmly  in  posses 
sion  of  Philadelphia,  fell  suddenly  upon  their  right 
wing  at  Germantown,  and  nearly  cut  off  half  their 
army.  They  marched  from  the  Hudson  to  the 
southern  extremity  of  Virginia,  and  took  Cornwal- 
lis  prisoner  in  Yorktown.  They  crossed  rivers  on 
the  ice  of  northern  winters,  and  made  campaigns 
under  the  sun  of  southern  summers.  In  the  be 
ginning,  they  had  been  paid  with  some  degree  of 
regularity ;  but  as  financial  embarrassments  in 
creased,  they  found  it  almost  impossible  to  get 
their  pay  even  in  the  almost  worthless  continental 
paper.  As  they  looked  forward  to  the  continua 
tion  of  the  war,  how  often  must  their  hearts  have 
sunk  within  them  at  the  anticipation  of  all  the 
suffering  it  would  bring  with  it.  As  they  looked 
forward  to  the  return  of  peace,  what  fears  and  mis 
givings  must  have  assailed  them  at  the  thought  of 
going  pennyless,  and  often,  too,  with  constitutions 
undermined  by  privation  and  disease,  to  look  for 
new  homes  and  new  means  of  support  in  a  world 
to  which  they  had  become  strangers. 

The  condition  of  the  officers  was  scarcely  better 
than  that  of  the  men.  They,  too,  had  suffered 
cold  and  hunger ;  they,  too,  had  been  compelled  to 
do  duty  without  sufficient  clothing;  to  inarch  and 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          237 

watch  and  fight  without  sufficient  food.  We  are 
told  of  a  dinner  at  which  no  officer  was  admitted 
who  had  a  whole  pair  of  pantaloons  ;  and  of  all  the 
invited  there  was  not  one  who  did  not  fully  estab 
lish  his  claims  to  admission. 

And  yet  the  history  of  this  army  contains  the 
record  of  only  three  partial  mutinies :  the  revolt  of 
the  Pennsylvania  line  in  January,  1781,  followed 
in  a  few  days  by  that  of  the  New  Jersey  line ;  and 
the  attempt  to  coerce  Congress  by  another  body 
of  Pennsylvanians  in  1783  ;  —  for  the  transient 
outbreaks  of  one  or  two  regiments  can  hardly  be 
termed  a  mutiny.  The  Pennsylvania  line  claimed 
their  pay  and  discharge  upon  the  ground  that  they 
had  enlisted  for  three  years,  and  that  the  three 
years  had  expired ;  and,  even  in  the  heat  of  the 
revolt,  denounced  and  gave  up  the  emissaries  whom 
the  British  commander  had  sent  among  them  to 
buy  them  back  to  England.  All  of  these  revolts 
were  repressed  without  actual  collision.  The  spirit 
of  subordination  to  an  authority  of  their  own  cre 
ating  was  too  deeply  rooted  in  the  American  mind 
to  be  forgotten  long,  even  when  men  felt  them 
selves  most  aggrieved. 

Not  that  there  were  not  vices  and  vicious  men 
in  the  army :  not  that  drunkenness,  and  profanity, 
and  the  other  forms  of  evil  which  prevail  where 
many  men  are  gathered  together  and  the  purify 
ing  influences  of  domestic  life  suspended,  were  not 
to  bpi  found  in  some  measure  among  these  men 


238  LECTURE    VII. 

also  :  but  neither  could  they  have  borne  what  they 
bore,  or  done  what  they  did,  if  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  them  had  not  been  as  sound  at  heart  as 
they  were  strong  in  will. 

To  the  officers,  Congress,  after  much  discussion 
and  delays  that  savored  equally  of  impolicy  and 
ingratitude,  had  voted  half-pay  for  life.  It  is 
painful  to  think  of  the  long  opposition  to  the  claims 
of  men  who,  besides  risking  their  lives  in  battle 
and  their  health  in  the  hardships  of  camp,  were 
necessarily  cut  off,  during  their  most  vigorous  years, 
from  every  other  method  of  providing  for  them 
selves  or  their  families.  To  some  minds  the  army 
seems  always  to  have  presented  itself  as  an  object 
of  apprehension.  In  strengthening  it  against  the 
enemy  they  were  still  disturbed  by  the  fear  of 
strengthening  it  against  the  people.  Forgetting 
that  the  men  who  composed  it  came  directly  from 
the  body  of  citizens,  and  must  sooner  or  later 
return  to  it,  they  feared  that  the  ties  by  which 
long  service  would  bind  them  to  their  officers 

o 

might  prove  stronger  than  the  ties  by  which  they 
were  bound  to  their  families.  History  troubled 
them  with  visions  of  Caesars  and  Cromwells  ;  and 
like  too  many  who  misapply  her  lessons,  they 
failed  to  see  how  utterly  unlike  were  the  "  Thir 
teen  Colonies"  to  the  dregs  of  Romulus  or  the 
England  of  Charles  the  First.  They  erred  where 
sensible  men  daily  err,  by  applying  to  one  class  of 
circumstances  the  principles  which  they  have  de- 


ARMY  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.          239 

duced  from  a  class  radically  different.  The  idea 
of  building  up  a  standing  army  in  a  country  of  vast 
extent,  thinly  peopled,  sturdily  independent,  too 
strongly  attached  to  their  local  institutions  to  be 
willing  to  sacrifice  them  to  the  certain  prospect  of 
immediate  advantage  and  under  the  stimulant  of 
immediate  danger,  accustomed  to  self-government, 
and  jealously  sensitive  to  the  least  encroachment 
upon  their  rights,  ought  never  to  have  found  ad 
mission  into  a  sound  mind.  Yet  it  not  only  found 
admission  to  some,  but  took  such  deep  root  there 
in  as  to  make  them  systematically  unjust  towards 
the  best  and  most  faithful  advocates  of  their  com 
mon  liberties.  It  was,  in  a  great  measure,  this 
feeling,  combined  with  a  morbid  attachment  to 
State  rights,  or  rather  an  imperfect  conception  of 
the  vital  importance  of  a  real  union,  that  delayed 
the  formation  of  an  army  for  the  war  till  the  mo 
ment  for  forming  it  cheaply  and  readily  was  past. 
It  was  this  feeling  which,  under  the  plausible 
show  of  strengthening  the  dependence  of  the  army 
upon  Congress,  kept  the  officers  in  much  feverish 
anxiety  about  the  rules  of  promotion.  It  was  this 
feeling  which  led  John  Adams  to  talk  seriously 
about  an  annual  appointment  of  generals ;  and 
both  the  Adamses  to  draw  nigh  to  Gates  as  a  man 
who,  in  some  impossible  contingency,  was  to  be 
set  up  against  Washington. 

It  is  not  surprising,   therefore,   that   to   minds 
tinged  with  these  suspicions,  the  idea  of  half-pay 


240  LECTURE    VII. 

for  life  should  seem  fraught  with  serious  danger, 
or  that  the  men  who  entertained  them  should  have 
opposed,  as  an  invasion  of  popular  rights,  what  in 
the  light  of  impartial  history  seems  a  mere  act 
of  justice.  It  was  not  till  the  terrible  winter  of 
Valley  Forge  had  been  passed  through,  and  when 
Washington  saw  himself  upon  the  point  of  losing 
many  of  his  best  and  most  experienced  officers, 
that  a  promise  of  half-pay  for  seven  years  to  all 
who  should  serve  through  the  war  was  wrung 
from  a  reluctant  Congress.  It  took  two  years 
more  of  urgent  exhortation  and  stern  experience 
to  overcome  the  last  scruples  and  secure  a  vote  of 
half-pay  for  life. 

But  the  opponents  of  this  measure  were  not  dis 
posed  to  submit  tamely  to  their  defeat.  The  ques 
tion  was  soon  revived,  both  in  Congress  and  out 
of  Congress,  in  the  army  and  in  the  country.  The 
letters  of  the  time  are  filled  with  it,  and  the  nearer 
the  approach  of  peace,  the  more  anxiously  did  the 
army  watch  the  movements  of  their  adversaries. 
The  great  underlying  question  of  a  strong  central 
government,  or  virtually  independent  State  gov 
ernments,  came  out  more  and  more  clearly.  Ham 
ilton,  now  in  Congress,  and  taught  by  his  long 
experience  as  Washington's  aid  the  weakness  of 
relying  for  justice  upon  the  action  of  individual 
States,  was  for  funding  the  whole  public  debt  and 
making  just  provisions  for  the  payment  of  the  army. 
The  advocates  of  State  rights  were  for  throwing 
the  army  upon  their  respective  States. 


ARMY   OF    THE  REVOLUTION.  241 

A  new  idea  was  gaining  ground ;  the  commu 
tation  of  half-pay  for  life  for  five  years'  full  pay, 
which  many  of  the  officers  preferred,  as  giving 
them  something  in  hand  to  enter  upon  the  world 
with  anew.  It  was  while  all  minds  were  agitated 
by  these  exciting  questions,  and  thoughtful  men 
were  glancing  anxiously  towards  the  future,  that 
that  stirring  appeal  to  the  army  appeared  which  is 
known  in  history  as  the  "  Newburg  Letters."  You 
all  know  the  history  of  this  grave  event.  You  all 
know  how  adroitly  and  how  wisely  Washington  par 
ried  the  blow,  and  drew  from  men  smarting  under 
a  sense  of  past  and  present  wrongs  a  declaration 
of  unshaken  confidence  in  the  justice  of  Congress. 

And  now  Congress,  resolving  to  be  just,  voted 
to  commute  the  half-pay  for  life  for  five  years'  full 
pay,  and  secure  it  by  certificates  bearing  interest 
at  six  per  cent.  When  the  sum  was  calculated  it 
was  found  to  amount  to  five  millions  of  dollars. 
But  of  these  five  millions,  "  the  price,"  as  Wash 
ington  called  it,  "  of  their  blood  and  your  inde 
pendence,"  the  officers  themselves,  pressed  by 
urgent  need  to  part  with  their  certificates  for  what 
ever  they  would  bring,  received  in  the  end  but  a 
small  part;  the  greater  part  going,  as  usual,  to 
those  who  had  been  making  money  for  themselves 
while  these  men  had  been  fighting  for  their  country. 

And  now,  too,  the  army  was  to  be  disbanded ; 
not  indeed,  solemnly,  as  became  a  grateful  people, 
but  stealthily  and  by  degrees,  as  if  the  nation  were 
n  P 


242  LECTURE    VII. 

afraid  to  look  their  deliverers  in  the  face.  All 
through  the  spring  and  summer  of  1783,  furloughs 
were  granted  freely,  and  the  ranks  gradually 
thinned.  Then,  on  the  18th  of  October,  a  final 
proclamation  was  issued,  fixing  the  3d  of  Novem 
ber  "for  their  absolute  discharge."  On  the  2d  of 
November,  Washington  issued  his  final  orders  to 
his  troops  from  Rocky  Hill,  near  Princeton.  On 
the  3d  they  were  disbanded.  There  was  no  for 
mal  leave-taking.  Each  regiment,  each  company, 
went  as  it  chose.  Men  who  had  stood  side  by 
side  in  battle,  who  had  shared  the  same  tent  in 
summer,  the  same  hut  in  winter,  parted  never  to 
meet  again.  Some  still  had  homes,  and  therefore 
definite  hopes.  But  hundreds  knew  not  whither 
to  go.  Their  four  months'  pay,  the  only  part  of 
their  country's  indebtedness  which  they  had  re 
ceived,  was  not  sufficient  to  buy  them  food  or  shel 
ter  long,  even  when  it  had  not  been  necessarily 
pledged  before  it  came  into  their  hands.  They 
had  lost  the  habits  of  domestic  life,  as  they  had 
long  foregone  its  comforts.  Strong  men  were  seen 
weeping  like  children  ;  men  who  had  borne  cold 
and  hunger  in  winter  camps,  and  faced  death  on 
the  battle-field,  shrunk  from  this  new  form  of  trial. 
For  a  few  days  the  streets  and  taverns  were 
crowded.  For  weeks  soldiers  were  to  be  seen  on 
every  road,  or  lingering  bewildered  about  public 
places  like  men  who  were  at  a  loss  what  to  do  with 
themselves.  There  were  no  ovations  for  them  as 


ARMY  OF   THE   REVOLUTION  243 

they  came  back  toil-worn  before  their  time,  to  the 
places  which  had  once  known  them  ;  no  ringing 
of  bells,  no  eager  opening  of  hospitable  doors. 
The  country  was  tired  of  the  war,  tired  of  the 
sound  of  fife  and  drum,  anxious  to  get  back  to  sow 
ing  and  reaping,  to  buying  and  selling,  to  town 
meetings  and  general  elections.  Congress  was  no 
longer  King,  no  longer  the  recognized  expression 
of  a  common  want,  the  venerated  embodiment  of 
a  common  hope.  Political  ambition  looked  for  ad 
vancement  nearer  home.  Professional  ambition 
returned  to  its  narrow  circle.  Everything  that 
belonged  to  the  State  resumed  its  importance  ;  ev 
erything  that  belonged  to  the  general  government 
lost  its  importance.  The  army  shared  the  common 
fate,  gradually  melting  into  the  mass  of  citizens, 
some  going  back  to  the  plough,  some  to  the  work 
bench  ;  all,  but  those  whom  disease  and  wounds  had 
utterly  disabled,  resuming  by  degrees  the  habits 
and  avocations  of  peace.  But  in  many  a  town  and 
country  inn  you  would  long  have  found  men  with 
scars  and  mutilated  limbs  seated  around  the  winter 
fire,  and  telling  stories  of  the  war.  In  many  a 
farm-house  you  might  long  have  seen  an  old  mus 
ket  on  the  hooks  over  the  mantel-piece,  or  an  old 
sword  hanging  by  its  leathern  belt  from  the  wall. 
In  many  a  field,  and  by  many  a  wayside,  there 
were  mounds  and  crumbling  ruins  ;  in  many  a 
churchyard  there  were  little  green  hillocks  with 
unsculptured  stones  at  head  and  foot,  to  tell  the 


244  LECTURE    VII. 

new  generation  where  their  fathers  had  fought,  had 
encamped,  had  buried  their  dead. 

It  was  long  before  the  country  awoke  to  a  con 
sciousness  of  its  ingratitude  towards  these  brave 
men.  The  history  of  our  pension  bills  is  scarcely 
less  humiliating  than  the  history  of  the  relations 
between  the  army  and  the  Congress  of  the  Revo 
lution.  Their  claims  were  disputed  inch  bv  inch. 
Money  which  should  have  been  given  cheerfully 
as  a  righteous  debt,  was  doled  out  with  reluctant 
hand  as  a  degrading  charity.  There  was  no  pos 
sible  form  of  objection  that  was  not  made  by  men 
who  owed  the  opportunity  of  discussing  the  sol 
diers'  claims  to  the  freedom  which  these  soldiers 
had  won  for  them  with  their  blood.  Never  did 
Daniel  Webster  display  a  higher  sense  of  the  re 
sponsibilities  of  legislation,  than  in  his  defence  of 
the  bill  for  the  relief  of  the  survivors  of  the  army 
of  the  Revolution.  Thank  God  that  something 
was  done  for  these  men  before  they  had  all  passed 
away !  Thank  God  that  some  portion  of  the  stain 
was  effaced  from  our  annals  !  Heaven  grant  that 
the  feeling  whence  it  sprang  may  be  forever  root 
ed  out  from  our  national  character,  and  that,  when 
the  question  of  national  gratitude  which  the  pres 
ent  war  is  preparing  for  us  shall  be  brought  to  the 
door  of  our  national  council,  it  may  be  met  in  a 
manner  more  worthy  of  a  just  and  enlightened 
people  I 


LECTURE    VIII. 

CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

«  fTHHE  success  of  a  war,"  says  one  of  the  great- 
JL  est  masters  of  the  art,  "  depends  in  a  great 
measure  upon  the  ability  of  the  general,  upon  his 
knowledge  of  the  country,  and  the  skill  with  which 
he  takes  advantage  of  the  ground,  both  by  pre 
venting  the  enemy  from  taking  favorable  positions, 
and  by  choosing  for  himself  those  which  are  best 
suited  to  his  designs."  "  The  talent  of  a  general," 
says  Jomini,  "  consists  in  two  things  very  different 
in  themselves :  to  know  how  to  judge  and  combine 
operations ;  and  to  know  how  to  carry  them  out." 
And  thus  the  history  of  a  war  becomes,  to  a 
certain  extent,  an  individual  history,  —  the  history 
of  the  genius  and  success,  or  of  the  errors  and  fail 
ures,  of  successful  and  unsuccessful  generals.  In 
the  second  Punic  war  Hannibal  fills  more  than 
half  the  canvas.  In  the  Seven  Years'  War  we 
pass  hastily  over  every  other  name  to  concentrate 
our  attention  upon  Frederic.  And  in  the  long 
European  wars  from  1796  to  1815,  —  from  the 
battle  of  Montenotte  to  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  — 


246  LECTURE    VIII. 

we  instinctively  refer  every  great    event   to  the 
genius  and  the  ambition  of  Napoleon. 

The  war  of  our  Revolution  forms  no  exception 
to  this  tendency  of  the  human  mind  to  make  indi 
viduals  the  representatives  of  ideas  and  events. 
As  the  page  of  our  history  fills  up,  names  that 
were  once  familiar  are  cast  into  the  shade ;  and 
acts  in  which  the  concurrence  of  many  hands  and 
many  minds  was  required,  gradually  become  asso 
ciated  with  the  master  minds  which  inspired  and 
directed  them  all.  Washington  is  the  first  name 
that  occurs  to  us  in  connection  with  our  military 
history,  as  it  is  the  first  in  our  civil  history ;  and 
wherever  our  history  comes  in  as  a  chapter  in  that 
of  the  world,  it  will,  for  the  period  to  which  it  be 
longs,  be  almost  the  only  one.  Next,  for  the  im 
portance  of  the  events  with  which  they  are  asso 
ciated,  though  with  very  different  degrees  of  merit, 
come  Gates  and  Greene.  Thus,  whenever  we  see 
the  main  army,  we  find  Washington  directing  all 
its  movements.  The  great  historical  importance 
of  the  Northern  army  was  derived  from  the  defeat 
of  Burgoyne  ;  and  with  this,  Gates  has  succeeded 
in  connecting  his  name,  almost  to  the  exclusion  of 
Schuyler  and  Arnold,  by  whom  most  of  the  real 
work  was  done.  The  reconquest  of  the  South  in 
the  brilliant  campaign  of  1780  -  81  belongs  exclu 
sively  to  Greene. 

If  we  would  form  a  correct  estimate  of  the  mili 
tary   genius  of   Washington,   we   must   study   his 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     247 

eight  campaigns  as  a  connected  and  harmonious 
whole  ;  the  result  of  a  careful  study  of  his  own  sit 
uation,  a  just  appreciation  of  the  character  and 
resources  of  his  enemy,  and  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  those  fundamental  principles  which,  though  not 
yet  set  forth  in  any  treatise  upon  the  art  of  war, 
had  inspired  the  combinations  of  every  great  com 
mander  from  Caesar  to  Frederic.  I  know  that  it 
has  been  common  to  underrate  Washington  as  a 
soldier  ;  to  speak  of  him  as  a  man  of  sound  sense 
surrounded  by  men  better  inspired  than  himself, 
whose  advice  he  always  took  before  he  ventured 
to  act.  I  know  that  the  original  suggestion  of  his 
most  brilliant  movements  has  been  claimed  for 
other  men,  and  that  he  has  often  been  represented 
as  deliberating  and  discussing  under  circumstances 
which  admitted  of  no  deliberation  and  called  for 
no  discussion.  But  history  teaches  us  that,  in 
situations  like  his,  none  but  great  men  know  how 
to  take  counsel,  and  that  the  mind  which  gathers 
around  it  the  master  minds  of  its  age,  and  through 
a  series  of  years,  and  under  great  diversities  of 
circumstances,  uses  their  best  faculties  as  its  own, 
must,  in  some  things,  be  superior  to  them  all. 

I  know,  too,  that  the  campaigns  of  the  Revolu 
tion  have  none  of  that  physical  grandeur  which 
overwhelms  the  imagination  in  the  movements  of 
vast  masses.  The  loss  of  the  allied  armies  at  the 
battle  of  Leipsic,  was  greater  than  twice  the  popu 
lation  of  New  York  city  in  1744 ;  and  the  French 


248  LECTURE   VIII. 

lost  fifteen  thousand  more  than  they.  But  there 
is  a  moral  grandeur  about  Trenton  with  its  two 
officers  and  two  or  three  men  wounded,  and  two 
frozen  to  death,  which  gives  a  glow  —  or,  as  the 
poet  terms  it,  a  "kindling  majesty"  — to  our  con 
ceptions,  which  none  but  moral  causes  can  awaken. 
And  even  as  illustrations  of  the  art  of  war,  we 
shall  find  that  the  principles  applied  in  these  cam 
paigns  —  the  principles  which  for  seven  years  kept 
open  the  communication  between  the  Eastern  and 
Middle  Provinces  by  the  line  of  the  Hudson, 
which  kept  an  ill-armed  and  half-organized  army 
year  after  year  within  striking  distance  of  the  en 
emy,  harassing  where  it  could  not  openly  attack, 
retarding  and  embarrassing  where  it  could  not 
openly  oppose,  and  often  attacking  and  opposing 
with  a  skill  and  vigor  which  astonished  its  ad 
versaries  and  revived  the  drooping  spirits  of  its 
friends — are  the  same  principles  by  which  all  great 
armies  have  been  moved  and  all  the  most  brilliant 
achievements  of  war's  most  brilliant  masters  per 
formed.  Never  did  a  general  change  his  line  of 
operations  more  promptly  or  with  more  effect  than 
Washington  changed  his  between  sunset  and  mid 
night  of  the  2d  of  January,  1777.  Never  was  an 
enemy  more  effectually  deceived  by  skilful  manoeu 
vring  than  Clinton  in  New  York,  or  more  effectu 
ally  taken  in  the  snare  than  Cornwallis  in  York- 
town  in  the  autumn  of  1781.  There  is  a  way  of 
doing  things  upon  a^small  scale  which  reveals  the 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    249 

existence  of  capacity  to  do  them  upon  a  large  scale, 
as  plainly  as  the  action  itself  would  have  done. 
And  the  general  who  carried  a  nation  of  less  than 
three  millions  through  a  successful  contest  of  eight 
years  with  the  most  powerful  nation  of  modern 
times,  may  justly  claim  a  place  among  great 
generals. 

The  campaign  of  1775  was  a  campaign  of  prep 
aration  and  organization.  Much  of  Washington's 
time  was  necessarily  given  to  the  study  of  his  ma 
terials.  He  had  the  character  of  his  officers  to  study, 
—  strangers,  almost  all  of  them,  and  most  of  them 
with  the  barest  tincture  of  military  science.  He  had 
the  character  of  the  people  to  study,  and  to  find  the 
way  of  establishing  himself  firmly  in  their  confi 
dence  and  affections.  He  had  the  country  itself  to 
study,  in  order  to  form  a  calm  estimate  of  its  spirit 
and  its  resources,  and  to  devise  the  most  effectual 
way  of  guiding  the  one  and  drawing  out  the  other. 
And,  meanwhile,  he  had  to  keep  close  watch  upon 
his  enemy,  harass  him,  annoy  him,  cut  off  his  sup 
plies,  weary  him  with  false  alarms,  and  by  a  men 
acing  aspect  keep  up  the  appearance  of  strength 
even  when  most  wanting  in  all  the  elements  of 
which  military  strength  consists.  His  army  was 
what  Frederic  has  described  as  one  with  which  a 
general  will  hardly  dare  to  look  his  enemy  in  the 
face,  —  badly  exercised  and  badly  disciplined. 

There  was  no  room  here  for  the  display  of  en 
terprise.  Prudence,  caution,  self-control,  were 
11* 


250  LECTURE    VIII. 

what  the  situation  required.  An  eagle  eye  to 
watch,  but  a  strong  will  to  keep  down  impatience 
and  wait  for  the  moment  of  action.  To  confine 
the  English  armv  within  the  limits  of  Boston  and 

O  »/ 

Charlestown  until  he  should  be  able  to  compel  it 
to  surrender  or  evacuate,  —  such  was  the  problem. 

The  first  part  of  the  solution  filled  the  summer 
and  winter  of  1775  -  76,  and  was  accomplished  by 
blockade.  With  less  than  fifteen  thousand  efficient 
men,  he  held  over  ten  miles  of  circumvallation.  It 
was  long  before  he  could  get  cannon  or  mortars 
enough  to  fire  upon  the  enemy's  works ;  in  August 
he  had  only  powder  enough  to  furnish  twenty-five 
rounds  to  a  man,  and  not  enough  to  serve  his  small 
park  of  artillery  a  day.  He  lacked  sadly,  too,  good 
engineers,  men  who  could  make  up  by  science  for 
the  want  of  strength,  and  turn  every  favorable 
feature  of  the  ground  to  the  best  advantage. 

But  the  ground  was  used  to  the  best  advantage. 
The  access  to  the  city  was  cut  off  by  a  connected 
line  of  works.  The  approaches  to  the  works  were 
carefully  guarded.  Ploughed  Hill,  Winter  Hill, 
Prospect  Hill,  were  covered  with  intrenchments. 
From  the  Mystic  to  Dorchester  Neck,  men  kept 
close  guard  from  morning  to  night,  from  night  to 
morning,  behind  Breastworks  and  redoubts,  from 
which  every  gun  could  have  been  aimed  with  the 
same  deadly  precision  which  had  twice  broken  the 
ranks  of  England's  best  soldiers  from  the  half-fin 
ished  redoubt  of  Bunker  Hill.  Gage  looked  out 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     251 

upon  them  from  Beacon  Hill,  and  feared  to  repeat 
the  bloody  experiment  of  the  17th  of  June.  Howe 
looked  upon  them  and  felt  that  he  could  not  afford 
the  blood  it  would  require  to  take  them. 

Every  day  Washington  was  on  the  lines,  among 
the  men,  gradually  infusing  the  spirit  of  order  and 
subordination  by  showing  them  that  his  eye  was 
ever  upon  them.  From  time  to  time  there  was 
cannonading  from  the  nearest  points ;  now  and 
then  the  surprise  of  a  picket,  or  a  menace  of  at 
tack.  From  time  to  time  detachments  met  on  the 
islands  of  the  bay,  —  the  English  coming  for  hay 
or  cattle,  the  Americans  to  prevent  them.  To  sol 
diers  like  ours,  these  skirmishes  had  all  the  appear 
ance  of  real  battles,  and  a  successful  skirmish  in 
spirited  them  as  much  as  a  great  victory.  "  Heap 
up  small  successes,"  says  Frederic,  "  and  their  sum 
will  be  a  great  success."  More  than  once  Wash 
ington  would  have  ventured  upon  a  general  attack, 
but  his  officers  thought  the  hazard  too  great,  and 
the  time  had  not  yet  come  for  overruling  the  de 
cision  of  a  council  of  war.  At  last,  when  all  his 
preparations  were  completed  and  he  felt  himself 
strong  enough  to  strike  a  decisive  blow,  he  took 
possession  of  Dorchester  Heights  and  fortified  them 
in  a  single  night.  When  the  English  admiral  saw 
the  American  guns  looking  down  upon  his  ships, 
he  saw  that  unless  Howe  could  drive  the  Ameri 
cans  from  their  post,  the  fleet  would  be  driven  from 
the  bav.  Howe  resolved  to  make  the  trial.  A 


252  LECTURE    VIII. 

day  of  storm  gave  Washington  time  to  strengthen 
his  works,  till  Howe,  remembering  how  much  the 
single  redoubt  of  Bunker  Hill  had  cost,  gave  up 
the  attempt  and  evacuated  the  city.  And  thus  the 
blockade  of  Boston,  sustained  for  ten  months  by  a 
judicious  use  of  the  ground,  was  decided  without  a 
battle  by  the  judicious  occupation  of  a  favorable 
position  at  the  proper  moment.  The  man  who 
wrote  that  the  "  success  of  a  war  depends  in  a 
great  measure  upon  a  choice  of  positions,"  would 
have  found  in  this  campaign  something  to  study 
and  much  to  praise ;  and  that  man  was  Frederic 
the  Great,  when  he  sat  down  to  write  the  history 
of  his  Seven  Years'  War. 

The  same  skilful  choice  of  positions  character 
ized  the  summer  campaign  of  1776.  That  he 
would  be  compelled  to  give  ground  before  his  dis 
ciplined  adversary,  Washington  knew  from  the 
first ;  but  he  was  resolved  to  dispute  every  foot  of 
it  where  it  could  be  disputed  to  advantage.  He 
fortified  Brooklyn  and  New  York,  and  only  gave 
them  up  when  any  further  attempt  to  hold  them 
would  have  imperilled  the  whole  army.  For  we 
must  constantly  bear  in  mind  that  the  loss  of  Wash 
ington's  army  would  have  involved  the  loss  of  the 
war,  and  that  all  his  measures  were  controlled  by 
political  as  well  as  by  military  considerations. 
Could  he  have  followed  Greene's  advice,  —  and 
there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  his  own  opinion 
went  with  it,  —  he  would  have  burned  New  York. 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     253 

But  Congress  ordered  him  to  protect  and  preserve 
it.  And  thus  the  enemy  —  for  to  keep  it  from 
them  was  impossible  — •  obtained  a  sure  base  of 
operations  for  the  whole  war ;  a  base  which  ena 
bled  them  to  use  their  fleet  at  will. 

See  for  a  moment  his  position  the  second  day 
after  the  battle  of  Long  Island.  The  battle  was 
irretrievably  lost.  To  defend  the  works  at  Brook 
lyn  was  impossible,  for  the  enemy's  fleet  could  in 
a  few  hours  be  brought  against  them  on  one  side 
while  the  enemy's  army  attacked  them  on  the 
other.  How  promptly  was  the  plan  of  retreat 
formed !  how  promptly  was  it  carried  into  execu 
tion  !  In  a  single  afternoon  boats  of  all  kinds  were 
brought  together  from  a  range  of  fourteen  miles. 
In  a  single  night  nine  thousand  men,  with  all  their 
tents,  baggage,  and  field-artillery,  were  conveyed 
from  within  earshot  of  the  enemy  across  a  rapid 
river  three  quarters  of  a  mile  wide.  The  English 
lay  down  at  night  with  the  Americans  in  their 
toils  ;  they  arose  in  the  morning  to  see  them  safe 
ly  landing  on  the  opposite  shore.  The  last  to  em 
bark  was  Washington  himself.  He  had  been  for 
ty-eight  hours  without  closing  his  eyes,  and  most 
of  the  time  in  the  saddle. 

And  now  half  of  the  army  that  his  skill  had 
saved  deserted  him.  The  militia  went  off,  —  I  use 
his  own  words, — "  in  some  instances  almost  by 
whole  regiments,  in  many  by  half  ones,  and  by 
companies  at  a  time."  The  regulars,  if  any  part  of 


254  LECTURE    VIII. 

this  irregular  body  deserved  the  name,  were  "  in- 
fected  by  their  example."  "  With  the  deepest 
concern,"  says  he,  in  words  almost  pathetic  from 
the  simplicity  with  which  they  unveil  the  secret 
struggle  of  his  heart,  "  with  the  deepest  concern  I 
am  obliged  to  confess  my  want  of  confidence  in  the 
generality  of  the  troops."  It  was  then  that  Con 
gress,  yielding  to  his  remonstrances,  voted  that 
army  of  eighty-eight  battalions  for  the  war,  which, 
as  we  saw  in  our  last  lecture,  was  never  much 
more  than  an  army  on  paper. 

And  now  see  how,  with  these  remnants  of  a  de 
moralized  army,  Washington  continued  to  retard 
the  enemy's  advance,  and  control  his  movements. 
It  was  Howe's  aim  to  cut  off  his  communications 
with  the  Eastern  States,  and,  shutting  him  up  on 
York  Island,  compel  him  to  fight  at  a  disadvantage. 
It  was  Washington's  aim  to  gain  time  by  disputing 
the  ground  where  it  could  be  disputed,  and  pro 
tracting  the  campaign  while  Congress  was  matur 
ing  its  plans  and  raising  a  new  army.  The  battle 
of  Long  Island  was  fought  on  the  27th  of  August ; 
but  it  was  not  till  the  15th  of  September  that  the 
enemy  got  possession  of  New  York.  A  strong  po 
sition  enabled  him  to  fight  the  brilliant  skirmish  at 
Harlaem,  which  cost  the  enemy  over  a  hundred 
men,  and  went  far  towards  restoring  the  Americans 
to  the  confidence  they  had  lost  in  the  defeat  of 
Long  Island.  A  well  chosen  position  enabled  him 
to  make  his  stand  at  the  White  Plains,  and  hold 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     255 

his  ground  till  the  British  general  was  compelled  to 
renounce  the  hope  of  forcing  him  to  a  general  ac 
tion  at  a  disadvantage,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Hud 
son.  Foiled  therefore  in  this,  Howe  crossed  over 
into  the  Jerseys,  and  Washington  began  that  mem 
orable  retreat,  in  which,  by  contesting  every  inch  of 
ground  that  could  be  contested,  by  breaking  down 
bridges,  and  throwing  every  possible  obstacle  in 
the  enemy's  path,  he  made  less  than  seventy  miles 
of  level  country  cost  them  nineteen  days,  and  suc 
ceeded  not  only  in  putting  the  broad  Delaware  be 
twixt  his  army  and  theirs,  but  effectually  secured 
the  command  of  the  river  by  sinking  or  destroying 
all  the  boats  from  Philadelphia  upwards,  for  seven 
ty  miles. 

Now,  thought  Howe,  the  campaign  is  over ;  we 
have  secured  New  York ;  we  have  overrun  New 
Jersey ;  all  that  remains  to  do  is  to  hold  our 
ground  by  detachments,  and  go  quietly  into  the 
comfortable  winter-quarters  that  we  have  won  for 
ourselves.  Lord  Cornwallis,  who  had  been  fore 
most  in  all  these  movements,  asked  leave  of  ab 
sence,  and  prepared  to  make  a  visit  to  England. 

Washington  had  crossed  the  Delaware  on  the 
8th  of  December,  with  less  than  three  thousand 
men  fit  for  duty.  He  had  readily  divined  the 
enemy's  plan  of  keeping  down  the  Whigs  by 
spreading  their  men  over  a  large  tract  of  country. 
"And  now,"  said  he,  "is  the  time  to  clip  their 
wings  when  they  are  so  spread."  On  Christmas 


256  LECTURE   VIII. 

night  he  recrossed  the  river,  knowing  that  the  en 
emy  would  keep  dull  watch  mid  their  Christmas 
carols.  The  weather  was  so  cold  that  of  the  four 
or  five  men  lost,  two  at  least  were  frozen  to  death ; 
but  in  spite  of  the  ice,  which  delayed  him  till  near 
daybreak,  before  the  next  daybreak  he  was  safe 
again  on  the  Pennsylvania  shore  with  nine  hun 
dred  and  nine  prisoners,  and  all  their  arms  and 
equipments.  Nothing  but  the  ice  saved  the  troops 
at  Bordentown  from  a  similar  fate. 

Cornwallis,  giving  up  all  thoughts  of  England 
for  that  winter,  hurried  back  to  Brunswick,  and, 
gathering  in  his  forces,  marched  rapidly  upon  Tren 
ton,  which  Washington,  following  up  his  blow,  had 
reoccupied  on  the  30th  of  December.  By  four  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  2d  of  January,  Cornwallis 
was  upon  him  with  a  superior  force.  By  the  5th, 
Washington  was  securely  encamped  at  Pluckemin  ; 
the  enemy  had  been  baffled  by  a  bold  change  of  line 
of  operations  ;  the  battle  of  Princeton  had  been  won, 
and  nothing  left  to  the  English  general  of  his  con 
quests  in  the  Jerseys  but  Brunswick  and  Amboy. 

Frederic  himself  could  not,  under  similar  cir 
cumstances,  have  chosen  a  better  winter-post  than 
that  which  Washington  now  took  at  Morristown ; 
strength,  command  of  supplies,  security  of  com 
munications,  accessibility  to  reinforcements,  con 
venience  for  watching  the  enemy  and  harassing 
him  at  every  opening,  were  all  combined.  Hence 
forth,  a  cloud  like  that  which  lowered  so  ominous- 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     257 

ly  before  the  eyes  of  Hannibal,  when  Fabius  was 
watching  him  from  the  mountains,  met  the  eyes  of 
Howe  whenever  he  turned  them  towards  the  west. 
He  advanced,  he  retreated,  he  threatened,  now  on 
one  side,  now  on  another.;  he  exhausted  all  the 
manoeuvres  of  his  art  in  efforts  to  bring  the  Amer 
ican  to  an  engagement,  and  open  for  himself  a  land 
route  to  Philadelphia ;  and,  thwarted  in  all,  sud 
denly  withdrew  to  New  York,  and,  embarking  his 
troops,  put  to  sea. 

Whither  ?  An  anxious  question,  which  Wash 
ington  anxiously  revolved.  From  the  north,  Bur- 
goyne  was  advancing  towards  Albany.  A  corre 
sponding  advance  from  New  York  might  break  the 
line  of  the  Hudson,  and  cut  off  the  communica 
tion  between  the  Middle  and  the  Eastern  States. 
All  that  he  could  do  to  prevent  it,  Washington  had 
already  done.  But  on  what  point  of  the  long  line 
of  the  American  coast  this  new  blow  would  fall, 
it  was  impossible  to  foresee.  Philadelphia  seemed 
the  most  probable,  and,  holding  himself  ready  to 
move  at  a  moment's  warning,  he  prepared  for  a 
desperate  struggle. 

At  last  the  veil  was  lifted.  The  British  fleet 
was  in  the  Chesapeake  ;  the  British  army  was  land 
ing  at  the  head  of  Elk.  Washington  hurried  his 
motley  battalions  southward,  looking  hopes  which 
he  hardly  felt,  and  trying  to  rouse  the  courage  of 
Philadelphia  by  marching  in  full  array  through  the 
city.  Political  motives  called  loudly  for  a  battle, 


258  LECTURE    VIII. 

and  he  fought  the  battle  of  the  Brandy  wine.  Er 
roneous  information  concerning  the  movements  of 
Cornwallis,  a  circumstance  utterly  beyond  his  con 
trol,  was  brought  him  just  as  he  was  upon  the  point 
of  crossing  the  river  to  attack  Knyphausen,  and 
cut  off  the  English  line  of  retreat,  —  a  suggestion 
of  the  same  daring  genius  which  suggested  the 
advance  upon  Princeton,  and  which  could  hardly 
have  failed  of  the  same  brilliant  success.  Defeat 
ed,  he  secured  his  retreat,  saved  his  army,  was 
ready  for  another  battle.  A  violent  storm  coming 
on  just  as  both  sides  were  preparing  to  engage,  sep 
arated  them  on  that  day,  and  when  the  storm 
ceased,  the  Americans,  ill-provided  for  such  con 
tingencies,  found  that  their  ammunition  was  wet. 
Marching,  countermarching,  manoeuvring  fol 
lowed.  Howe  had  but  thirty  miles  between  him 
and  Philadelphia  ;  thirty  miles  through  an  open 
country  in  which  every  stream  was  fordable  ;  but 
so  judicious  were  Washington's  manoeuvres,  so 
unremitting  his  watchfulness,  so  skilful  his  em 
ployment  of  his  unequal  force,  that  fifteen  days 
were  consumed  in  marching  those  thirty  miles. 

Philadelphia  fell ;  but  hardly  were  the  English 
established  in  their  quarters,  when  Washington 
darted  upon  their  advance  at  Germantown,  and, 
though  foiled  in  his  attempt  to  cut  them  off,  struck 
a  blow  that  was  felt  at  once  by  the  American 
Commissioners  in  Paris.  "Nothing,"  said  Count 
Vergennes,  "  has  struck  me  so  much  as  General 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     259 

Washington's  attacking  and  giving  battle  to  Gen 
eral  Howe's  army  ;  to  bring  an  army  raised  within 
a  year  to  this,  promises  everything."  A  continued 

struo-o-le  of  six  weeks  for  the  command  of  the  Del- 

t 

aware  followed,  and  November  was  near  its  end 
before  Howe  could  truly  call  Philadelphia  his  own. 
But  the  cloud  was  still  on  the  horizon,  ominous, 
full  of  menace.  He  could  not  rest  tranquilly  in 
his  pleasant  quarters  till  he  had  seen  what  those 
menaces  meant.  Opposite  the  range  of  hills  on 
which  the  American  army  lay,  was  the  range  of 
Chestnut  Hill,  equally  strong.  From  this  Howe 
tried  once  more  to  draw  his  enemy  into  an  engage 
ment  on  unfavorable  ground.  Washington  was 
willing  to  fight  on  ground  of  his  own  choice,  but 
not  on  that  of  his  enemy's  choosing.  Three  days 
the  English  general  manoeuvred;  three  days  the 
American  general  stood  prepared  for  an  attack. 
Neither  party  was  willing  to  give  up  the  advan 
tage  of  ground ;  and  Howe,  on  the  afternoon  of 
the  third  day,  confessing  himself  once  more  van 
quished  in  the  contest  of  skill,  marched  his  four 
teen  thousand  veterans  back  to  Philadelphia,  leav 
ing  fifteen  thousand  Americans,  not  a  thousand  of 
whom  had  seen  a  year's  service,  and  more  than 
three  thousand  of  whom  were  militia,  in  undisput 
ed  possession  of  the  field. 

Then  came  that  terrible  winter  at  Valley  Forge, 
which  our  fathers  could  never  speak  of  without  a 
shudder.  The  general  was  once  more  merged  in 


260  LECTURE    VIII. 

the  organizing,  administrating  statesman.  And 
when,  in  the  summer  of  1778,  he  led  his  new 
army  down  upon  the  traces  of  Clinton,  —  flying 
traces  I  might  almost  call  them,  so  hurried  was  his 
passage  through  the  once  conquered  Jerseys,  —  it 
was  an  army  into  which  Steuben  had  infused  a 
spirit  of  order  and  discipline  which  no  American 
army  had  possessed  before.  Do  you  remember 
Monmouth  ?  Washington's  positive  orders  to  fight  ? 
Lee's  unwillingness  to  obey  them  ?  Have  you  not 
seen  Washington,  standing  with  his  arm  on  his 
horse's  neck,  waiting  for  tidings  from  the  advance, 
—  the  burst  of  indignation  with  which  he  received 
the  tidings  that  Lee  was  retreating, —  how  he  sprang 
into  the  saddle,  spurred  to  the  front,  checked  by  his 
presence  the  retreat,  though  almost  a  flight,  issued 
his  rapid  orders,  restored  the  confidence  of  men 
and  officers,  and  snatched  a  victory  from  the  eager 
grasp  of  his  experienced  and  skilful  adversary? 
No  time  that  for  deliberation  and  counsel,  but  for 
lightning  thoughts  and  words  that  should  send  ev 
ery  man  to  the  right  place,  resolved  to  do  the  duty 
assigned  him  or  die  in  trying  to  do  it. 

No  great  movements  marked  the  next  two  years. 
To  preserve  the  line  of  the  Hudson,  to  secure  the 
passes  of  the  Highlands,  to  straiten  the  enemy  in 
his  quarters,  and  inflict  upon  him  some  of  that 
distress  for  food  in  summer,  and  food  and  fuel  in 
winter,  which  fell  so  heavily  upon  his  own  troops, 
was  almost  all  that  Washington  could  do  with  his 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     261 

skeleton  of  an  army.  But  he  planned  expeditions 
and  directed  them,  saved  Connecticut  by  sending 
Wayne  to  storm  Stony  Point,  and  still  made  him 
self  everywhere  felt  as  the  inspiring  and  command 
ing  spirit.  But  I  hasten  to  1781,  the  great  year 
of  the  war,  and  to  Yorktown,  where  Washington 
heard  for  the  last  time  that  whistling  of  bullets,  in 
the  sound  of  which  he  had  found  something  so 
charming  when  he  first  heard  it  at  the  "  Great 

o 

Meadows,"  twenty-seven  years  before. 

Cornwallis  was  in  Virginia.  Clinton  had  weak 
ened  New  York  by  detachments.  In  conjunction 
with  Rochambeau,  Washington  planned  a  blow  at 
this  stronghold  from  whence  so  many  fatal  expedi 
tions  had  been  sent  forth  since  it  first  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  Preparations  were  made 
upon  a  scale  commensurate  with  the  object.  The 
combined  armies  advanced  close  to  the  old  ground 

O 

of  the  autumn  campaign  of  1776.  But  the  rein 
forcement  which  had  been  called  for  weeks  before 
did  not  come,  and  at  the  most  critical  moment  a 
strong  reinforcement  reached  the  English.  Just 
at  this  moment,  too,  came  tidings  that  a  French 
fleet  might  soon  be  expected  in  the  Chesapeake. 
Between  daybreak  and  breakfast,  Washington  de 
cided  to  carry  the  war  into  Virginia,  and,  if  he 
could  not  cut  off  Clinton,  to  deprive  him  at  least  of 
his  right  arm,  Cornwallis. 

Admitting  none  to  his  councils  but  those  with 
whom  immediate  co-operation  was  required,  he 


2G2  LECTURE    VIII. 

made  all  his  preparations  with  profound  secrecy 
and  marvellous  despatch.  Every  appearance  of  a 
design  upon  New  York  was  carefully  kept  up,  —  a 
camp  was  marked  out  in  the  Jerseys  as  if  for  oper 
ations  from  that  quarter,  and  false  intelligence  pre 
pared  and  allowed  to  fall  into  the  enemy's  hands. 
Even  trusted  officers  were  held  till  the  last  mo 
ment  in  ignorance  of  their  destination  ;  Washington 
knowing  well,  and  again  I  use  his  own  words,  that 
"  when  the  imposition  does  not  completely  take  place 
at  home,  it  can  never  sufficiently  succeed  abroad." 
The  American  army  was  already  on  the  hanks  of 
the  Delaware  before  Clinton  suspected  whither 
it  was  going.  On  the  20th  of  August,  it  began 
to  cross  the  Hudson  ;  by  the  25th  of  September, 
it  was  before  Yorktown.  How  skilfully  the  siege 
was  conducted,  how  gloriously  it  ended,  I  need 
not  tell  an  audience  of  Americans.  Need  I  tell 
them  that,  in  the  formation  and  carrying  out  of 
this  decisive  plan,  Washington  had  displayed  a 
promptness  of  conception,  a  power  of  combination, 
and  a  completeness  of  execution,  which,  when 
combined  with  the  knowledge  of  character,  force 
of  will,  and  personal  intrepidity  which  have  never 
been  denied  him,  entitle  him  to  a  place  among  the 
greatest  of  generals  ? 

The  first  campaigns  of  the  Northern  army  de 
rive  their  historical  importance  from  their  having 
deprived  the  Colonies  of  two  provinces  which  might 
have  become  useful  members  of  the  Union,  and 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     263 

having  left  the  enemy  in  possession  of  a  strong 
base  of  operations  on  the  northern  frontier.  The 
last,  from  the  enemy's  attempting  to  use  that  base, 
and  losing  a  large  and  well-appointed  army  in  the 
attempt.  Two  episodes,  one  brilliant  and  one  sad, 
have  preserved  the  memory  of  the  first  campaign 
with  peculiar  freshness ;  and  we  still  speak  of  Ar 
nold's  march  through  the  wilderness,  and  Mont 
gomery's  death,  as  we  speak  of  the  occurrences  of 
last  year.  If  history  were  always  just,  there  would 
be  a  brilliant  page  in  those  northern  annals  for  Sul 
livan  too,  whose  masterly  retreat  in  the  face  of 
overwhelmning  obstacles,  was  one  of  the  great 
events  of  the  war.  But  success,  which  too  often 
lends  as  false  a  coloring  to  our  judgments  of  the 
past  as  to  our  opinions  of  the  present,  has  in  spite 
of  the  indignant  protests  of  contemporaries,  and  the 
unanswerable  demonstrations  of  impartial  investi 
gators,  given  the  honor  of  the  closing  campaign  to 
a  man  who,  of  all  those  who  bore  a  part  in  these 
events,  had  the  smallest  share  in  preparing  the 
causes,  and  hardly  a  greater  one  in  directing  the 
measures  which  led  to  that  glorious  consummation. 
The  Northern  campaign  of  1777  ought  to  have 
been  for  England  the  last  campaign  of  the  war. 
Secure  in  the  possession  of  Canada,  an  advance  by 
Lake  George  to  Albany,  supported  by  a  corre 
sponding  advance  from  New  York,  would  have  cut 
oft0  the  communication  between  the  Eastern  and 
Middle  States,  and  reduced  each  section  to  its  un- 


2G4  LECTURE    VIII. 

assisted  resources.  But  to  accomplish  this,  Bur- 
goyne  should  have  been  twice  as  strong,  Howe 
and  Clinton  twice  as  active.  When  Burgoyne  be 
gan  his  advance,  Schuyler  was  in  command  of  the 
Northern  army.  The  experience  of  two  campaigns 
on  the  same  ground  had  prepared  him  for  the  diffi 
cult  task  of  disputing  step  by  step  the  advance  of 
an  enemy  greatly  his  superior  in  appointments  and 
discipline.  And  never  was  ground  disputed  more 
resolutely,  never  were  obstacles  accumulated  more 
persistently,  in  an  enemy's  path.  At  every  step 
the  British  general  was  compelled  to  pause  in  order 
to  remove  some  obstruction  which  his  skilful  ad 
versary  had  put  in  his  way.  The  farther  he  ad 
vanced,  the  more  did  his  embarrassments  increase. 
If  there  was  labor  in  front,  there  was  danger  on 
the  flank,  and  still  greater  danger  in  the  rear. 
The  diversion  in  the  Mohawk  by  St.  Leger,  which 
at  one  moment  promised  him  important  aid,  was 
defeated  by  the  watchfulness  of  Schuyler,  and  the 
energy  of  Arnold.  A  desperate  attempt  to  get 
supplies  from  Vermont  had  cost  him  seven  hun 
dred  men  at  Bennington.  He  counted  the  miles 
behind  him  and  the  miles  before  ;  he  counted  his 
supplies,  and  saw  no  escape  from  starvation  but  in 
a  rapid  advance,  or  a  still  more  rapid  retreat. 
And  he  could  do  neither  without  opening  or  secur 
ing  his  way  by  an  overwhelming  victory.  When 
Gates  took  command  of  the  American  army  on  the 
19th  of  August,  the  toils  were  so  far  laid  around 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  DEVOLUTION.     2G5 

the  English  general,  that  a  child's  hand  might  have 
drawn  them.  Two  brilliant  battles  were  fought, 
but  neither  at  Stillwater  nor  at  Bemis's  Heights 
was  the  American  general  under  fire.  On  the 
17th  of  October,  the  English  laid  down  their  arms. 

Why  did  not  the  army  at  New  York  save  therm  ? 

The  original  plan  of  the  campaign  had  comprised 
an  advance  bv  Howe  along  the  line  of  the  Hud 
son,  and  an  irruption  into  New  England.  Instead 
of  this,  he  turned  southward,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  and  directed  all  his  efforts  against  Philadel 
phia.  Burgoyne's  advance  from  Canada  was  well 
known,  and  in  all  Howe's  army  there  were  but 
two  men  who  did  not  wonder  at  the  sudden  change 
in  his  well-devised  plan  of  co-operation.  These 
two,  Cornwallis  and  Grant,  had  doubtless  been  ad 
mitted  to  his  secret  counsels ;  and  we  now  know, 
what  they  alone  then  knew,  that  another  plan  of 
operations  had  been  proposed  to  the  British  com 
mander  by  Charles  Lee. 

Lee  was  then  a  prisoner  in  New  York,  —  a  dis 
appointed  and  embittered  man  ;  signally  foiled, 
hitherto,  in  his  selfish  ambition,  and  still  revolving 
schemes  of  selfish  revenge  in  his  morose  and 
gloomy  mind.  In  a  long  letter  to  the  Howes,  — 
the  General  and  the  Admiral, — he  proposed  the 
crushing  of  the  rebellion  by  a  movement  to  the 
southward ;  and  they  accepted  the  suggestion, 
though,  happily  for  us,  in  a  modified  form.  And 
thus  Burgoyne  was  left  to  make  his  way  to  Al- 
12 


2GG  LECTURE    VIII. 

bany  by  his  own  exertions ;  the  feeble  and  tardy 
co-operation  of  Clinton  producing  no  result  beyond 
the  burning  of  two  flourishing  villages,  and  the 
destruction  of  some  valuable  stores.  To  Howe's 
contemporaries  his  change  of  plan  was  a  mystery  ; 
and  history  has  classed  it,  thus  far,  among  those 
actions  which  she  is  so  often  compelled  to  record 
without  being  able  to  explain  them.  But  six  years 
ago,  eighty  years,  that  is,  after  the  event,  Lee's 
original  letter,  with  the  indorsement  of  Howe's 
secretary,  was  brought  to  light,  removing  all 
doubts,  not  only  as  to  Howe's  motives  in  1777, 
but  as  to  his  own  motives  also  in  the  autumn  of 
1776,  and  two  years  later  at  the  battle  of  Mon- 
mouth.  The  whole  story  is  so  singular  a  one,  so 
important  in  its  bearing  upon  three  capital  events 
in  our  history,  and  so  important,  too,  as  showing 
to  the  warning  of  bad  men,  and  the  comfort  of  the 
good,  that  sooner  or  later  historical  truth,  like  mur 
der,  will  out,  that  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of 
recommending  to  you  all  the  remarkable  disserta 
tion  which  George  Henry  Moore,  Librarian  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society,  has  devoted  to  it.* 

We  come  now  to  the  Southern  campaigns  of 
1780  and  1781.  And  it  is  not  without  some  mis 
givings  that  I  approach  this  part  of  my  subject ; 
for  I  am  well  aware  that  it  is  no  easy  thing  in 

*  The  Treason  of  Charles  Lee,  by  George  H.  Moore,  Libra 
rian  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society.  New  York :  Charles 
Scribner.  1860.  1  vol.  8vo. 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     267 

speaking  of  our  ancestors  to  guard  ourselves  against 
the  insinuations  of  personal  feeling.  But  the  doc 
uments  are  within  your  reach  to  correct  me  if  I 
err. 

In  none  of  the  thirteen  Colonies  had.  the  Brit 
ish  arms  been  so  uniformly  successful  as*  in  the 
Carolinas  and  Georgia.  They  had  taken  Savan 
nah,  and  held  it  against  a  combined  attack  of  Amer 
icans  and  French  by  land  and  water.  They  had 
taken  Charleston,  and  secured  the  line  of  the  San- 
tee  by  strong  posts  at  Fort  Watson  and  Granby, 
and  the  western  districts  by  the  still  stronger  post 
of  Ninety-six,  between  the  headwaters  of  the  Sa 
vannah  and  Saluda.  The  battle  of  Camden  had 
opened  a  passage  into  North  Carolina  through  the 
broad  lowlands  which  lay  unguarded  between  the 
Catawba  and  the  Great  Pedee  ;  and  England's 
best  soldiers,  gathering  around  her  best  general, 
Cornwallis,  were  preparing  to  throw  themselves 
with  irresistible  fury  upon  the  feeble  and  disheart 
ened  remnants  of  the  conquered  army. 

The  population,  not  yet  numerous  in  times  of 
peace,  had  shrunk  from  the  presence  of  hostile 
armies,  and  still  more  from  the  fierce  war  between 
Whig  and  Tory,  till  whole  districts  had  been  left 
desolate.  Of  those  who  still  ventured  to  remain 
on  their  plantations  and  cultivate  them,  many  were 
devoted  to  the  royal  cause,  and  many  more  than 
lukewarm  in  the  cause  of  their  country. 

The  American  army  was  encamped  at  Charlotte, 


263  LECTURE    VIII. 

between  the  Catawba  and  the  Great  Pedee,  near 
the  southern  border  of  North  Carolina,  and  about 
sixty  miles  from  the  British  camp  at  Winnsboro. 
When  General  Greene  took  command  of  it  on  the 
4th  of  December,  1780,  it  consisted  of  nine  hun 
dred  and  seventy  continentals,  and  ten  hundred 
and  thirteen  militia.  A  recent  distribution  of  cloth 
ing  had  given  each  of  the  regulars  a  coat,  a  shirt, 
a  pair  of  woollen  overalls,  a  cap  or  a  hat,  and  a 
pair  of  shoes.  The  blankets  had  been  apportioned 
by  companies,  upon  an  average  of  one  blanket  for 
three  men.  Few  of  the  new  recruits  had  clothes 
enough  to  enable  them  to  make  a  decent  appear 
ance  on  parade.  They  had  no  tents,  no  camp 
equipage,  no  magazines,  and  were  subsisting  by 
daily  collections,  every  day  made  more  difficult  by 
the  indiscriminate  ravages  of  friend  and  enemy. 
As  Greene  looked  upon  them,  it  seemed  to  him 

"that  the   word  difficult   had   lost  its   meaning" 

& 

"I  have  been  in  search  of  the  army  I  am  to  com 
mand,"  he  wrote  to  his  wife  on  the  7th,  but  with 
out  much  success,  having  found  nothing  but  a  few 
half-starved  soldiers,   remarkable  for  nothing  but 
poverty  and  distress."     "  But,"  he  adds,  "  I  am 
in  hopes  matters  will  mend.     I  am  in  good  health 
and  in  good  spirits,  and  am  unhappy  for  nothing 
except  my  separation  from  you  and  the  rest  of  my 
friends."    . 

In  advancing  from  Salisbury  to  Charlotte,  Gates 
had   no  intention  of  renewing  active   operations, 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      260 

and  a  council  of  war  had  already  decided  to  lie 
quiet  through  the  winter.  But  Greene,  convinced 
that  his  first  step  must  be  to  inspire  officers  and 
men  with  confidence  in  their  leader,  formed  his 
own  plans  independently,  and  proceeded  to  put 
them  into  execution  without  delay.  He  saw  that 
his  predecessors  had  been  hurried  into  injudicious 
movements  by  consulting  the  wishes  of  the  people, 
impatient  to  be  freed  from  the  presence  of  the  ene 
my,  rather  than  the  means  at  their  disposal  and  the 
true  nature  of  the  war.  He  recalled  the  King  of 
Prussia's  maxim,  that  in  defending  a  country  it 
was  necessary  to  attend  to  great  objects  and  sub 
mit  to  partial  evils.  He  felt  the  difficulty  of  an 
imating  to  great  exertions  a  people  who  lived  at 
such  a  distance  from  each  other,  and  who,  in  spite 
of  their  danger,  were  intent  on  their  private  af 
fairs.  But  he  felt,  too,  that  the  success  of  the  war 
depended  upon  "  appearances  and  public  opinion," 
and  that  if  he  would  establish  a  character  for  judg 
ment,  enterprise  and  independence,  he  might  hope, 
in  spite  of  all  his  difficulties,  to  bring  it  to  a  suc 
cessful  termination.* 

He  chose,  therefore,  a  new  camp  at  Cheraw 
Hill,  on  the  Great  Pedee,  nearly  forty  miles  far 
ther  south  than  Charlotte,  thus  placing  himself 
within  the  borders  of  South  Carolina,  and  on  the 

*  "  Dans  une  guerre  de  cette  nature,  il  faut  du  sang  froid,  de 
la  patience  et  du  calcul."  —  Napoleon,  Note  sur  la  position  ac- 
tuelle  de  1'armee  en  Espagne.  Napier,  Pen.  War,  I.  442. 


270  LECTURE   VIII. 

enemy's  right  flank.  But  at  the  same  time  he  was 
resolved  to  leave  nothing  to  chance  which  pru 
dence  and  forethought  could  secure.  Three  great 
streams  intersected  the  region  where  the  first  and 
fiercest  struggle  would  come,  and  in  the  hope  of 
finding  them  navigable  by  batteaux,  he  sent  out 
officers  to  explore  them  carefully,  ascertaining  the 
depth  of  water,  the  currents,  the  rocks,  and  every 
thing  which  could  favor  or  impede  the  progress 
of  a  boat.  He  caused  a  large  number  of  boats 
suited  to  these  shallow  and  rapid  waters  to  be  built, 
no  easy  task  in  the  dearth  of  tools  and  artificers, 
and  carried  them  with  the  army  wherever  it  went. 
He  established  a  depot  for  prisoners  at  Salisbury, 
and  did  everything  that  his  means  permitted  to 
establish  depots  of  provisions  at  convenient  points, 
and  open  a  sure  communication  with  them.  South 
Carolina  was  so  completely  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  that  no  aid  could  be  expected  from  what 
remained  of  her  civil  government ;  but  with  the 
governors  of  North  Carolina  and  Virginia,  he  kept 
up  an  active  correspondence,  explaining  his  condi 
tion,  and  pointing  out  the  best  modes  of  relief. 
And  at  the  same  time  he  did  all  that  his  circum 
stances  permitted  to  restore  the  moral  tone  of  his 
army,  and  instil  into  officers  and  men  a  spirit  of 
discipline  and  soldierly  pride. 

Short  time,  however,  was  given  him  for  prepara 
tion.  Strong  reinforcements  had  already  reached 
Cornwallis,  and  every  indication  gave  warning  of 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     271 

an  active  winter  campaign.  Without  waiting  for 
his  adversary  to  begin,  he  boldly  took  the  initiative 
by  detaching  Morgan  with  six  hundred  men  to  join 
Davidson  and  his  militia,  and  rouse  the  country 
west  of  the  Catawba. 

Cornwallis  was  perplexed.  Greene  might  be 
aiming  at  Charleston,  to  which  the  camp  at  Che- 
raw  was  as  near  as  the  camp  at  Winnsboro.  To 
meet  this  danger,  he  left  Leslie  on  the  east  bank 
of  the  Catawba.  The  Whig  spirit  in  the  regions 
west  of  the  Broad  River  and  round  Ninety-six, 
might  be  roused  by  the  sudden  reappearance  of 
the  American  army.  To  meet  this  danger  he  de 
tached  his  favorite  officer,  Tarleton,  with  orders  to 
crush  Morgan.  Then  fearing  a  sudden  blow  at 
Leslie,  he  ordered  him  to  break  up  his  camp  on  the 
Catawba  and  join  the  main  army.  Already  one 
of  the  advantages  of  his  superiority  had  been 
wrested  from  him  by  his  enterprising  adversary ; 
he  had  lost  the  initiative. 

Tarleton's  rapidity  soon  brought  him  up  with 
Morgan,  who  felt  himself  in  a  condition  to  fight, 
and  who  well  knew  how  much  at  that  moment 
even  a  partial  success  would  encourage  his  coun 
try  men.  His  own  judicious  choice  of  ground,  and 
a  bold  movement  of  Colonel  Howard,  of  Mary 
land,  at  the  critica.1  moment  of  the  battle,  gave 
him  a  complete  victory,  and  Tarleton  barely  es 
caped  with  a  few  followers  to  carry  to  Cornwallis 
the  unexpected  tidings  of  his  disaster.  Cornwallis 


272  LECTURE    VIIL 

saw  that  no  ordinary  exertions  could  repair  it. 
Still  Morgan  must  be  cut  off;  his  five  hundred 
prisoners  must  be  released.  Taking  a  day  to  effect 
his  junction  with  Leslie,  and  collect  the  relics  of 
Tarleton's  defeat,  he  broke  up  his  camp  on  the 
morning  of  the  19th,  and  pushed  rapidly  forward 
in  the  hope  of  getting  between  Morgan  and  the 
Dan,  and  thus  preventing  the  junction  of  the  two 
divisions  of  the  American  army. 

But  Morgan  was  in  motion  before  him,  and 
though  encumbered  by  prisoners,  and  obliged  to 
collect  provisions  by  detachments  as  he  marched, 
was  at  Beale's  Ford,  on  the  Catawba,  sixty  miles 
from  the  Cowpens,  on  the  evening  of  the  23d. 
The  next  morning  he  crossed  the  river,  and  for 

O 

the  first  time  since  the  battle,  could  safely  give  his 
men  a  short  breathing-space.  Do  not  forget  that 
the  distances  of  those  days  are  not  to  be  measured 
by  the  distances  of  ours.  The  battle  of  the  Cow- 
pens  was  fought  on  the  17th  of  January,  and  it 
was  not  till  the  evening  of  the  25th  that  the  ti- 

O 

dings  of  it  reached  the  American  camp  at  Cheraw. 
Greene  instantly  put  his  army  under  marching 
orders,  made  all  his  preparations  for  advance  or 
retreat  as  circumstances  might  require,  and  taking 
with  him  a  sergeant's  guard  of  dragoons,  pushed 
rapidly  across  the  countrv, —  near  a  hundred  miles' 
ride,  —  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  victorious 
detachment,  while  Huger  brought  up  the  main 
body  to  the  place  fixed  for  their  junction.  Could 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     273 

he  unite  the  two  divisions  of  his  army,  and  call  out 
a  sufficient  body  of  militia,  he  might  be  strono- 
enough  to  fight  Cornwallis  himself.  But  the  mi 
litia  failed  him,  and  then  came  that  celebrated 
retreat  from  the  banks  of  the  Catawba  to  the  banks 
of  the  x)an,  —  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  roads 
scarcely  passable  in  the  best  seasons,  but  in  Febru 
ary  alternately  mire  and  frozen  ground,  his  half- 
clad  soldiers  reddening  it  all  the  way  as  they  passed 
with  the  blood  from  their  naked  feet,  and  the  enemy 
well  clothed,  well  fed,  well  armed,  pressing  on  their 
rear  confident  of  victory  and  eager  for  revenge. 
But  so  well  were  Greene's  measures  taken,  and 
such  was  the  spirit  with  which  he  inspired  his 
troops,  that  the  junction  with  the  main  body  was 
effected,  and  the  whole  army  placed  in  safety  on 
the  north  bank  of  the  Dan.  Foiled  in  his  main 
object,  Cornwallis  turned  his  face  southward,  and 
raising  the  royal  standard  at  Hillsboro,  tried  to 
rouse  the  loyalists  by  a  proclamation  announcing 
the  evacuation  of  the  State  by  the  army  of  the 
Congress,  and  his  own  presence  at  the  head  of  the 
victorious  army  of  the  King.  But  hardly  had  he 
begun  his  march  from  the  Dan  towards  Hillsboro, 
^before  an  American  detachment  was  again  over 
the  river  hanging  upon  his  rear,  cramping  his 
movements,  cutting  off  stragglers,  and  keeping 
down  the  Tories.  The  main  army  followed  on  the 
23d.  A  fearful  blow  from  the  advanced  detach 
ment  crushed  a  body  of  four  hundred  Tories  on 

12* 


274  LECTURE    VIII. 

their  way  to  the  British  camp,  crashing  with  them 
the  awakening  spirit  of  loyalty  ;  and  without  paus 
ing  to  give  his  men  a  breathing-space,  Greene  took 
a  favorable  position  between  Troublesome  Creek 
and  the  Reedy  Fork,  —  two  tributaries  of  the 
Haw,  —  thus  covering  the  communications  with 
Virginia,  whence  reinforcements  were  now  coming 
rapidly  forward,  and  retaining  at  the  same  time 
the  means  of  retreating  or  advancing  at  will. 
Cornwallis  followed,  and  pitched  his  camp  on  the 
Almance,  another  tributary  of  the  Haw.  For  ten 
days  Greene  manoeuvred  in  front  of  the  English, 
constantly  in  motion,  now  on  the  Reedy  Fork,  now 
on  Troublesome  Creek,  changing  his  camp  every 
night,  and  never  staying  long  enough  in  one  place 
to  allow  his  adversary,  though  ever  watchful  and 
ever  active,  to  strike  a  blow.  During  these  anx 
ious  days  he  never  took  off  his  clothes  to  sleep,  — 
never  quit  the  saddle  but  to  take  his  pen  or  snatch 
a  hasty  meal.  .With  so  active  and  exasperated  an 
enemy  at  hand,  night  was  more  dangerous  than 
day  ;  and  every  night,  when  all  his  other  labors 
were  over,  he  went  the  rounds  alone,  visiting  ev 
ery  post,  and  making  sure  that  every  sentinel  was 
keeping  vigilant  guard.  It  was  in  oiw  of  these 
rounds  that  he  received  what  he  used  in  after  life 
to  speak  of  as  the  greatest  compliment  ever  paid 
him.  Among  his  officers  there  was  a  namesake 
of  his  own,  though  not  a  relative,  Colonel  Greene, 
of  Virginia,  a  bold  and  sturdy  soldier.  One  night, 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     27 j 

as  the  General  was  going  his  round,  his  ear  was 
greeted  by  some  unequivocal  sounds  from  the 
Colonel's  tent,  which  left  no  doubt  as  to  how  li~ 
was  passing  his  time.  Entering  in  haste  and  rous 
ing  him  by  a  sudden  shake,  "  Good  God !  Col 
onel,"  he  cried,  "  how  can  you  be  sleeping,  with 
the  enemy  so  near,  and  this  the  very  hour  for  sur 
prises?"  "Why,  General,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
rubbing  his  eyes,  "  I  knew  that  you  were  awake.'* 

All  knew  that  he  was  awake,  soldiers  and  offi 
cers,  and  the  enemy  too.  But  no  one  knew  what 
the  next  order,  or  in  what  direction  the  next  move 
would  be.  He  called  no  councils,  entered  into  no 
discussion,  but,  gathering  all  the  information  scouts 
and  spies  and  constant  watchfulness  could  give 
him,  weighed  it  maturely  in  his  own  mind,  and 
when  the  moment  for  decision  was  come,  issued 
his  orders  and  made  sure  that  they  were  executed. 

The  promised  reinforcements  came  at  last,  and 
choosing  his  own  ground,  he  drew  up  his  army  in 
three  lines  and  awaited  the  approach  of  the  ene 
my.  The  battle  was  fierce  and  bloody ;  and 
though  the  dastardly  flight  of  the  North  Carolina 
militia  who  composed  the  first  line  compelled  him 
to  relinquish  the  honors  of  the  field  to  his  adver 
sary,  he  brought  off  his  forces  in  perfect  order,  and 
was  prepared  to  renew  the  trial  the  next  day.  But 
Cornwallis  was  too  much  crippled  to  risk  another 
battle,  or  even  to  hold  his  ground ;  a  fourth  of  his 
army  was  killed  or  disabled.  His  best  general, 


270  LECTURE    VIII. 

O'Hara,  was  seriously  wounded.  His  favorite 
colonel,  Webster,  was  mortally  wounded.  The 
desperate  pursuit  into  which  Greene  had  lured  him 
had  cut  him  off  from  his  communications,  and  left 
him  without  supplies  in  the  midst  of  "  timid  friends 
and  inveterate  enemies."  Nothing  but  retreat 
could  save*  him,  and  retreat  must  be  prompt  and 
unencumbered.  Leaving  seventy  of  his  wounded 
behind  him  under  the  protection  of  a  flag,  he  be 
gan  his  march  towards  Wilmington.  A  glance  at 
the  map  will  show  you  where  it  lies,  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Cape  Fear,  on  a  line  with  Camden, 
and  thus  a  little  south  of  Winnsboro,  from  whence 
he  had  started  eight  weeks  before  to  complete  the 
conquest  of  the  Carolinas.  His  victory,  as  he 
called  it,  of  Guilford  Court  House,  had  forced  him 
back  towards  Charleston,  and  left  his  adversary  in 
possession  of  the  greater  part  of  North  Carolina. 

It  was  now  Greene's  turn  to  pursue,  and  wel 
come  as  a  few  days'  rest  would  have  been  to  his 
jaded  troops,  he  pushed  forward  without  delay. 
But  at  Ramsay's  Mills,  on  the  Deep  River,  sixty 
miles  about  from  the  battle-ground  of  Guilford, 
the  terms  of  the  militia's  service  expired  ;  and  al 
though  the  enemy  and  certain  victory  were  almost 
within  their  grasp,  no  entreaties  or  persuasions 
could  induce  them  to  stay  a  day  beyond  their 
time. 

Thus  Cornwallis  again  outnumbered  him,  and 
what  should  he  do  ?  Wait  for  supplies  and  rein- 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     277 

forcements  while  taking  advantage  of  his  undisput 
ed  possession  of  the  country,  to  rouse  it  to  his 
support,  and  meanwhile  give  a  short  respite  to  his 
toil-worn  regulars  ? 

It  was  on  the  28th  of  March  that  he  was  com 
pelled  to  give  up  the  hope  of  overtaking  Cornwal- 
lis,  and  on  the  29th  he  wrote  to  Washington  that  he 
had  resolved  to  advance  directly  upon  the  enemy's 
posts  in  South  Carolina.  "  Nothing,"  he  writes 
to  Colonel  Lee,  in  communicating  his  intentions, 
"  nothing  is  left  me  but  to  imitate  the  example  of 
Scipio,  and  carry  the  war  into  Africa."  On  the 
7th  of  April  the  gallant  little  army  was  on  its  way, 
officers  and  men  wondering  whither  he  was  carry 
ing  them.  When  Cornwallis  heard  of  his  march, 
and  the  danger  flashed  upon  his  mind,  he  hesitated 
for  a  moment  whether  he  ought  not  to  go  to  the 
defence  of  the  royal  garrisons.  -But  his  army  had 
known  no  rest  since  the  campaign  began,  and  he 
could  not  venture  to  call  upon  men  who  fought 
merely  for  pay,  well  clothed  and  thoroughly 
equipped  as  they  were,  for  the  sacrifices*  that 
Greene  could  ask  from  half-naked  men  who  were 
fighting  for  freedom.  To  Wilmington  therefore 
he  went,  the  first  step  towards  Yorktown. 

Camden  was  Greene's  first  aim,  the  enemy's 
strongest  post ;  and  though  it  cost  him  the  battle 
of  Hobkirk's  Hill,  in  which  he  was  again  compelled 
•to  leave  his  enemy  in  possession  of  the  field,  the 
apparent  defeat  again  proved  a  real  victorv,  and 


278  LECTURE    VIII. 

the  English  garrison,  with  Lord  Rawdon  at  their 
head,  destroying  their  works,  retreated  to  Monk's 
Corner,  eighty  miles  nearer  to  Charleston.  Fort 
Watson  had  already  fallen.  Fort  Mott  and  Fort 
Granby  fell  next.  The  British  line  of  defence  was 
effectually  broken,  and  on  the  22d  of  May,  Greene 
sat  down  before  Ninety-six.  Once  more  he  was 
subjected  to  the  mortification  of  seeing  a  brilliant 
prize  snatched  from  his  grasp,  for  Rawdon,  hasten 
ing  forward  with  superior  numbers,  compelled  him 
again  to  retreat.  But  the  only  use-  that  the  Eng 
lish  General  could  make  of  his  superiority  was  to 
withdraw  his  garrison  and  abandon  the  western 
district1,',  to  their  fate.  Another  month  of  incessant 
activity  followed,  and  early  in  July  Greene  pitched 
his  camp  on  the  high  hills  of  Santee,  and  his  wea 
ried  army  rested  from  its  labors.  Two  more  moves 
drove  the  enemy  down  upon  the  seaboard,  and  cut 
them  oft*  from  the  interior  for  the  remainder  of  the 
war.  The  first,- towards  the  end  of  August,  ter 
minating  in  the  hard-fought  battle  of  Eutaw 
Springs,  which  forced  them  back  upon  Dorches 
ter  and  Bacon's  Bridge,  within  a  few  miles  of 
Charleston.  The  second,  in  November,  which 
drove  them  headlong  from  Dorchester,  leaving 
them  hardly  a  foothold  outside  the  city  but  the  isl 
ands  on  the  coast,  and  converting  what  had  set  forth 
in  January  as  the  arjny  of  South  Carolina,  into  the 
garrison  of  Charleston.  When  the  news  of  this 
last  brilliant  move  reached  the  North,  Washington 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     279 

wrote  to  Laurens,  "  The  report  of  the  brilliant  av«-l 
successful  movement  of  General  Greene,  by  which 
he  compelled  the  enemy  to  abandon  their  outposts, 
is  another  proof  of  the  singular  abilities  which  that 
officer  possesses." 

Thus  in  the  South  as  in  the  North,  America  tri 
umphed  by  the  strategic  skill  of  her  generals. 
With  an  army  with  which  no  European  general 
would  have  dared  to  look  his  enemy  in  the  face, 
Washington  year  after  year  held  his  ground  against 
the  best  soldiers  of  Great  Britain,  and  thwarted 
their  best  concerted  plans.  With  an  army  even 
worse  appointed  than  Washington's,  Greene,  in  a 
single  campaign,  faced  two  British  armies  in  suc 
cession,  forcing  them  both  back  upon  the  coast, 
and  breaking  up  the  strong  line  of  well-chosen 
posts  with  which  they  fondly  fancied  they  had 
made  sure  their  possession  of  the  interior.  Phys 
ical  superiority  yielded  to  skilful  combinations,  su 
perior  discipline  to  superior  judgment ;  men  of 
talent,  who  had  studied  the  art  of  war  in  the  field 
under  able  generals  to  men  who  had  studied  it  by 
the  light  of  their  own  genius  in  the  campaigns  of 
Caesar  and  Frederic.  Read  the  history  of  the 
greatest  commanders.  See  the  obstacles  with 
which  they  contended,  and  how  they  overcame 
them ;  study  the  characteristics  which  they  dis 
played  in  the  camp,  on  the  march,  and  on  the  bat 
tle-field  ;  penetrate  the  spirit  of  their  manoeuvres, 
and  analyze  the  principles  of  their  combinations 


280  LECTURE    VIII. 

then  go  back  to  the  military  history  of  our  Revolu 
tion  ;  follow  Washington  from  Cambridge  to  York- 
town  ;  follow  Greene  from  Charlotte  to  Charles 
ton ;  and  you  will  find  that  the  strategy  which 
defended  the  thirteen  Colonies  from  the  over 
whelming  power  of  Great  Britain  was  in  spirit  and 
principle  the  same  strategy  which  saved  Italy 
from  Hannibal,  and  carried  Frederic  in  triumph 
through  a  seven  years'  war,  with  two  thirds  of 
Europe  leagued  against  him  and  but  one  ally  at 
his  side. 

There  are  many  other  events  which  deserve  men 
tion,  even  in  an  outline  of  this  war ;  many  other 
names  which  have  strong  claims  to  our  grateful 
remembrance.  There  was  Sullivan's  Rhode  Island 
expedition  in  1778,  unsuccessful  in  its  immediate 
object,  but  remarkable  for  a  well-fought  battle,  and 
a  skilful  retreat.  There  was  Sullivan's  expedition 
against  the  Six  Nations  in  1779,  planned  with 
judgment  and  executed  with  energy.  There  was 
the  gallant  defence  of  Red  bank,  and  the  brilliant 
capture  of  Stony  Point  by  storm.  How  many 
pleasant  associations  gather  round  the  true-heart 
ed  and  genial  Knox.  How  well  deserved  was  the 
respect  which  men  felt  for  Lincoln :  how  well 
earned  their  confidence  in  MacDoucrall.  If  little 

O 

Rhode  Island  had  her  Olney  and  her  Angell,  and 
her  Christopher  Greene,  little  Maryland  had  her 
Williams  and  her  Howard  ;  never  was  cavalry  led 
to  the  charge  more  gallantly  than  the  cavalry  of 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    281 

William  Washington :  never  did  partisan  warfare 
bring  out  a  bolder  spirit  than  Marion ;  never  was 
Henry  Lee  excelled  in  the  skilful  conduct  of  an 
advanced  corps,  in  hanging  on  the  enemy's  rear, 
and  beating  up  his  quarters.  Who  would  willingly 
forget  the  sturdy  wagoner,  Morgan,  who  with  his 
keen-eyed  riflemen  decided  the  day  at  the  first  bat 
tle  of  Still  water  ?  or  that  Pennsylvanian,  ever  fore 
most  in  desperate  encounters,  eagerly  scenting  the 
battle  from  afar ;  the  mad  Anthony  of  the  soldier, 
but  to  the  friends  he  loved  the  high-minded,  the 
generous,  the  affectionate  Wayne  ?  Gladly  would 
I  speak  of  these,  and  of  many  more  who  fought 
by  their  side,  and  whose  memories,  if  we  had  not 
too  often  permitted  ourselves  to  be  drawn  by  the 
cares  or  the  pursuits  of  the  present  into  a  wicked 
forgetfulness  of  the  past,  would  have  been  pre 
served  by  statues  and  monuments,  and  all  the  tes 
timonials  by  which  a  grateful  people  rewards  the  de 
votion  of  its  benefactors.  But  all  that  I  could  do 
in  a  single  lecture  I  have  endeavored  to  do ;  still 
remembering,  even  while  I  selected  single  names 
as  the  representatives  of  the  whole  war,  that  nei 
ther  Washington  nor  Greene  could  have  brought 
it  to  a  successful  termination  if  they  had  not  found 
clear  heads  and  skilful  hands  to  comprehend  and 
execute  their  designs. 


LECTURE    IX 

THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT  OF  THE  REVOLUTION, 

WE  come  now  to  a  very  interesting,  though  a 
very  difficult  part  of  our  subject,  —  the  for 
eign  element  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  It  is 
very  interesting  to  know  how  much  help  our  un 
trained  officers  received  from  the  well-trained  offi 
cers  of  Europe  who  fought  by  their  side.  It  is 
equally  interesting  to  know  how  large  a  proportion 
of  those  who  served  in  the  ranks  and  bore  the 
brunt  of  the  war  were  men  of  foreign  birth.  The 
last  is  a  question  of  statistics  for  which  the  data 
are  extremely  imperfect,  or  rather,  almost  entire 
ly  wanting.  We  know  that  there  were  many  for 
eigners  among  the  common  soldiers;  for  we  know 
that  on  more  than  one  occasion  when  men  were 
chosen  for  special  service,  special  care  was  taken 
to  employ  none  but  natives.  We  know  that  there 
was  a  German  legion  ;  and  German  and  Irish 
names  meet  us  constantly  in  the  imperfect  muster- 
rolls  that  have  escaped  the  moths  and  rats,  or  not 
been  burnt  for  kindling.  But  we  know,  also,  that 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  283 

then  as  now,  hundreds  bore  German  and  Irish 
names  who  had  never  seen  Ireland  or  Germany. 
Conjecture  and  analogy  then  must  supply  the  want 
of  positive  evidence  ;  and  the  analogy  in  the  pres 
ent  war  bears  us  fully  out  in  the  conjecture  that  by 
far  the  greater  portion  of  the  common  soldiers  were 
natives  of  the  land  for  which  they  fought. 

Of  foreign  officers,  the  proportion  in  the  higher 
ranks  was  much  larger.  Out  of  twenty-nine  ma 
jor-generals,  eleven  were  Europeans;  there  were 
sixteen  Europeans  among  the  brigadiers ;  and  if,  as 
we  descend  to  colonels,  captains,  and  lieutenants, 
\ve  find  the  number  comparatively  less,  we  must 
remember  that  what  the  greater  portion  of  them 
sought  in  the  American  service  was  increase  of 
rank.  Few  would  care  to  serve  as  captains  or 
lieutenants  in  the  half-clad,  half-starved  army  of 
America,  who  could  be  captains  and  lieutenants  in 
the  well-clothed  and  well-fed  armies  of  France  or 
Prussia. 

But  it  is  not  by  numbers  that  we  are  to  estimate 
the  services  of  these  officers.  Many  of  them  had 
been  trained  to  arms  from  their  childhood.  Many 
had  served  through  the  Seven  Years'  War,  at  that 
time  the  greatest  war  of  modern  history  as  a  school 
of  military  science.  All  of  them  were  practically 
familiar  with  the  rudiments  of  their  profession,  the 
life  of  a  camp,  the  duties  of  a  field  day.  Ten  sol 
diers  of  such  make  as  composed  the  bulk  of  Euro 
pean  armies  might  have  very  little  influence  in 


284  LECTURE  IX. 

moulding  the  character  of  a  regiment  of  American 
farmers  and  mechanics.  But  a  single  officer,  of 
even  moderate  experience,  could  hardly  fail  to 
make  Ins  American  colleagues  painfully  conscious 
of  their  deficiencies,  even  where  the  daily  sight  of 
his  example  did  not  go  far  towards  correcting  them. 
A  colonel  at  a  loss  for  some  important  evolution 
must  have  been  greatly  relieved  to  find  that  his 
lieutenant-colonel,  or  his  major,  knew  all  about  it. 
And  more  than  one  general  may  have  felt  strong 
er  at  the  head  of  his  division,  after  a  few  weeks  of 
daily  intercourse  with  generals  who  had  passed 
their  lives  in  camps.  It  surely  is  not  assuming 
too  much  to  say  that,  regarded  merely  as  a  contri 
bution  to  the  general  stock  of  military  science,  the 
foreign  element  was  a  very  important  element  in 
the  army  of  the  Revolution. 

But  the  war  of  the  Revolution  was  a  civil  war ; 
a  war  of  opinions  and  convictions,  in  which  men 
fought,  not  for  a  few  miles  more  or  less  of  a  terri 
tory,  that  whether  won  or  lost  would  add  nothing 
to  their  individual  aggrandizement,  but  for  rights 
which  involved  not  only  their  own  happiness,  but 
that  of  their  remotest  descendants.  Every  Amer 
ican  who  drew  his  sword  knew  that  a  fearful  pen 
alty  was  attached  to  his  failure,  —  a  glorious  re 
ward  to  his  success.  He  had  relinquished  positive 
advantages,  broken  strong  ties,  often  sacrificed 
cherished  affections  and  brilliant  hopes.  But  he 
had  done  it  conscientiously  as  the  only  thing  which 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  285 

a  good  citizen  could  do ;  and  whatever  the  conse 
quences  might  be,  he  was  prepared  to  abide  them. 
For  him  then  it  was  a  grave  question,  how  far  he 
ought  to  intrust  his  own  and  his  country's  cause 
to  men  who  could  not  fully  share  either  his  hopes 
or  his  danger. 

To  answer  this  question  aright,  we  must  give  a 
glance  —  unfortunately  it  can  be  but  a  glance,  — 
at  two  characteristic  features  in  European  society 
at  the  period  of  the  American  war. 

Long  before  that  period  France  had  placed  her 
self  at  the  head  of  European  civilization.  The 
French  language  had  taken  the  place  of  Latin  as 
the  language  of  diplomacy.  French  literature  had 
taken  the  place  of  the  Italian  as  the  literature  of 
refinement  and  taste.  Everywhere  fine  gentlemen 
endeavored  to  imitate  the  air  and  manners  of  the 
fine  gentlemen  of  France.  And  fine  ladies,  as 
they  decked  themselves  for  the  eye  of  the  world, 
for  the  front  row  at  the  theatre,  or  for  a  presenta 
tion  at  court,  followed  with  scrupulous  minuteness 
the  fashions  and  example  of  Versailles.  "  If  I 
were  king  of  France,"  said  Frederic  the  Great, 
"  not  a  cannon  should  be  fired  in  Europe  without 
my  permission."  And  for  many  years  the  kings 
of  France  endeavored  to  do  what  Frederic  would 
have  done,  and  give  law  to  states  as  their  tailors 
and  milliners  gave  law  to  drawing-rooms.  Riche 
lieu  had  laid  deep  foundations  on  which  Louis 
XIV.  built  a  dazzling  superstructure.  The  name 


236  LECTURE  IX. 

of  country  was  merged  in  the  name  of  king.  De 
votion  to  the  sovereign  became  the  test  of  patriot 
ism.  And  those  local  attachments  which  have 
always  been  one  of  the  chief  bulwarks  of  society, 
were  converted  into  those  personal  attachments 
which  have  often  been  its  greatest  curse. 

Already  when  this  transmutation  began,  men's 
minds  had  grown  singularly  indifferent  to  the  obli 
gations  of  nativity.  Long  and  bloody  civil  wars 
had  loosened  the  hold  which  the  name  of  birth 
place  always  retains  in  healthy  minds.  Turenne 
and  Conde'  had  alternately  fought  against  their 
countrymen,  and  with  them,  and  even  after  fight 
ing  side  by  side  had  ted  armies  against  each  other. 
Yet  France  has  classed  them  both  among  her  fa 
vorite  heroes.  Frenchmen  had  turned  their  swords 
against  France  long  before  the  army  of  Coblentz 
was  enrolled.  Englishmen  had  encountered  Eng 
lishmen  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  on  more  than 
one  bloody  field.  German  and  Swiss  mercenaries, 
like  the  Condottieri  of  an  earlier  day,  were  long 
the  chief  reliance  of  every  monarch  in  every  war. 

Thus  when  the  tie  of  country  was  loosest,  the 
tie  of  sovereign  began  to  be  drawn  more  closely. 
Turenne  and  Comic*,  who  had  shed  the  blood  of 
Frenchmen  freely,  became  the  most  devoted  of  the 
loyal  servants  of  Louis.  And  when  Louis  was 
gone  it  took  more  than  eighty  years  to  undermine 
the  edifice  which  he  had  built.  First  came  the  re 
gency,  and  the  religious  element  crumbled.  Then 


THE   FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  287 

the  long  profligacy  of  "Louis  XV.,  during  which  all 
the  forms  of  reverence  for  the  royal  authority  were 
observed,  while  the  royal  person  became  daily 
more  an  object  of  abhorrence  or  contempt,  and 
last  Louis  XVI.,  on  whose  weak  though  innocent 
head  all  the  sins  of  his  fathers  were  fearfully  visited. 

It  was  not  all  at  once  that  the  idea  of  country 
could  regain  its  natural  control ;  nor  were  men 
conscious,  at  first,  how  far  their  devotion  to  roy 
alty  had  been  weakened.  Their  minds  were  filled 
with  contradictions.  School  and  college  set  Greece 
and  Rome  before  them  as  the  worthiest  objects  of 
imitation,  —  great  republics  and  the  heroes  of  re 
publics.  The  philosophy  and  literature  of  the  day 
discoursing  eloquently,  if  not  always  wisely,  of  the 
rights  of  mankind,  awakened  in  their  breasts  vague 
longings  for  noble  enterprises.  They  ate  and 
drank,  and  made  love  and  gamed  as  they  had  al 
ways  done ;  but  their  language  was  the  language 
of  men  who  feel  that  life  has  higher  pleasures  and 
worthier  objects  than  these.  And  while  they  were 
thus  agitated  and  tossed  to  and  fro,  habit  conflict 
ing  with  thought,  and  the  whole  theory  of  life  with 
the  practice  of  it,  came  the  American  Revolution, 
giving  sympathy  a  definite  object,  and  the  love  of 
glory  a  noble  field.  Hence  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  Franklin  was  received  in  Paris,  and  the  rev 
erence  which  everywhere  waited  on  his  steps. 

But  at  the  same  time  there  was  another,  and 
perhaps  a  larger  class,  who  shared  this  impatience 


28S  LECTURE  IX. 

of  repose  without  sharing  tins  longing  for  a  nobler 
field  of  exertion.  In  the  wars  of  Europe  there 
had  always  been  a  demand  for  military  science. 
A  good  officer  could  always  count  upon  employ 
ment  under  one  banner  if  he  could  not  get  it  un 
der  the  other.  And  not  unfrequently,  the  man 
who  saw  many  wars,  was  found  in  the  course  of 
them  fighting  with  equal  zeal  and  equal  honor 
under  both.  Germany  had  been  an  exhaustless 
storehouse  of  good  soldiers,  from  which  all  the 
princes  of  Europe  drew  freely.  Switzerland  sent 
forth  her  hardy  sons  to  fight  for  the  best  paymas 
ter,  whoever  he  might  be.  Swiss  guards  were 
found  in  the  court  of  every  potentate  that  could  af 
ford  to  keep  them.  War  was  an  honorable  trade  for 
the  soldier,  an  honorable  profession  for  the  officer  ; 
and  wherever  they  carried  their  strength  or  their 
knowledge,  they  were  sure,  when  war  was  waging, 
to  find  honorable  employment.  Austria's  greatest 
victories  were  won  under  the  guidance  of  a  foreign 
general.  Frederic  was  constantly  on  the  watch  for 
able  officers,  and  always  ready  to  receive  and  trust 
them.  The  soldier  was  a  citizen  of  the  world. 

Now  in  this  class,  as  in  every  other,  we  must 
expect  to  find  all  varieties  and  shades  of  character. 
There  would  be  honorable  men  among  them,  lov 
ing  their  profession,  and  ambitious  of  military  glory 
as  the  highest  glory.  There  would  be  mercenary 
men,  ready  to  sell  their  blood  to  the  highest  bid 
der,  and  risk  life  for  the  chances  of  gain.  There 


THE   FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  289 

would  be  intriguing  men,  and  designing  men,  and 
quarrelsome  men,  and  fretful  men  ;  and  there 
would  be  many  who,  with  little  ambition,  no  ex 
cessive  love  of  gain,  and  no  spirit  of  intrigue,  had 
gone  into  the  army  as  they  would  have  gone  into 
the  Church,  or  engaged  in  any  other  pursuit  con 
sistent  with  their  rank  which  promised  them  a  de 
cent  livelihood. 

For  the  greater  part  of  these  men  peace  was  a 
misfortune.  When  armies  were  disbanded  or  reo-- 

<:*5 

iments  cut  down,  their  occupation  was  gone.  Even 
with  his  half  pay,  Captain  Clutterbuck  was  an  un 
happy  man  till  he  fell  upon  the  rare  device  of  turn 
ing  local  antiquary,  and  found  occupation  for  the 
leaden-winged  hours.  But  what  could  men  do 
who  had  no  ruined  abbeys  to  explore,  and  no  half- 
pay  to  live  upon?  The  coffee-houses  of  Paris, 
the  petty  courts  of  Germany,  the  watering-places 
and  towns  of  the  provinces  were  always  filled  in 
time  of  peace  with  officers  whom  the  war  had 
thrown  out  of  employment;  restless,  impatient, 
and  like  the  Mercury  of  Lucian's  dialogue,  longing 
for  some  new  commotion  that  they  might  get  their 
pay. 

To  those  men  the  American  war  was  a  Godsend. 
Even  to  those  among  them  who  did  not  care  to 
venture  so  far  in  quest  of  employment,  it  opened 
a  prospect  of  a  speedy  war  in  Europe,  in  which 
they  could  not  fail  to  find  ready  purchasers  of  the 
blood  thev  were  ever  ready  to  shed.  But  the 

13  8 


190  LECTURE    VI. 

sailles  the  night  of  the  21st,  had  come  to  Paris  at 
two  the  next  afternoon,  and  now  was  at  his  lodg 
ings  in  the  Rue  de  FUniversite. 

No  one,  perhaps,  was  more  surprised  than  Frank 
lin  to  find  himself  the  object  of  such  universal  at 
tention.  But  no  one  knew  better  than  he  how  to 
turn  it  to  account  for  the  accomplishment  of  his 
purpose.  In  a  few  days  he  withdrew  to  the  quiet 
little  village  of  Passy,  at  easy  distance  both  from 
the  city  and  the  court ;  and,  without  endeavoring 
to  increase  the  public  curiosity  by  an  air  of  mys 
tery  or  seclusion,  kept  himself  sufficiently  in  the 
background  to  prevent  that  curiosity  from  losing  its 
stimulant  by  too  great  a  familiarity  with  its  object. 
Where  men  of  science  met  for  the  discussion 
of  a  new  theory  or  the  trial  of  a  new  experiment, 
he  was  to  be  seen  amongst  them  with  an  unpre 
tending  air  of  intelligent  interest,  and  wise  sug 
gestions,  never  indiscreetly  proffered,  never  indis 
creetly  withheld.  Where  humane  men  met  to 
discuss  some  question  of  practical  benevolence, 
or  philosophers  to  debate  some  principle  of  social 
organization,  he  was  always  prepared  to  take  his 
part  with  apt  and  far-reaching  illustrations  from 
the  stores  of  his  meditation  and  experience.  Some 
times  he  was  to  be  seen  in  places  of  amusement, 
and  always  with  a  genial  smile,  as  if  in  his  sympathy 
with  the  enjoyment  of  others  he  had  forgotten  his 
own  perplexities  and  cares.  In  a  short  time  he 
had  drawn  around  him  the  best  minds  of  the  capi- 


DIPLOMACY  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     191 

tal,  and  laid  his  skilful  hand  on  the  public  pulse 
with  an  unerring  accuracy  of  touch,  which  told  him 
when  to  speak  and  when  to  be  silent,  when  to  urge 
and  when  to  leave  events  to  their  natural  progress. 
Ever  active,  ever  vigilant,  no  opportunity  was  suf 
fered  to  escape  him,  and  yet  no  one  whose  good 
will  it  was  desirable  to  propitiate  was  disgusted  by 
injudicious  importunity.  Even  Vergennes,  who 
knew  that  his  coming  was  the  signal  of  a  new  fa 
vor  to  be  asked,  found  in  his  way  of  asking  it  such 
a  cheerful  recognition  of  its  true  character,  so  con 
siderate  an  exposition  of  the  necessities  which  made 
it  urgent,  that  he  never  saw  him  come  without 
pleasure.  If  he  had  been  a  vain  man,  he  would 
have  enjoyed  his  position  too  much  to  make  good 
use  of  it  for  the  cause  he  came  to  serve.  If  he 
had  been  a  weak  man,  he  would  have  fallen  under 
the  control  of  the  opinion  which  it  was  his  office 
to  guide.  If  he  had  not  possessed  a  pure  and  gen 
uine  sympathy  with  human  nature,  he  would  not 
have  been  able,  at  the  age  of  seventy,  to  enter 
into  the  feelings  of  a  people  so  different  from  those 
among  whom  he  had  always  lived.  And  if  he  had 
not  been  stimulated  by  earnest  convictions,  and 
governed  by  high  principles,  he  would  not  have 
been  able  to  withstand  the  frequent  and  insidious 
attempts  that  were  made  to  shake  his  fortitude  and 
undermine  his  fidelity.  But  in  him,  as  in  Wash 
ington,  there  was  a  rare  predominance  of  that 
sound  common-sense  which  is  man's  surest  guide 


«v)2  LECTURE  IX. 

ise  of  its  accredited  agent.  Nothing  could  have 
been  more  dangerous  at  home  than  to  have  put 
places  of  trust  and  confidence  in  the  hands  of  men 
who  had  no  permanent  interest  in  the  cause  or 
the  country  for  which  they  had  agreed  to  draw 
their  swords.  Still,  act  and  decide  it  must.  Some 
were  accepted  and  remained ;  some  were  refused, 
and  went  back  to  complain  of  the  injustice  of  Con 
gress,  and  paint  America  and  Americans  in  the 
blackest  colors. 

Of  those  who  remained,  the  greater  part,  al 
though  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word  military  ad 
venturers,  did  good  service.  One  of  the  serious 
wants  of  our  army,  and  which  no  native  genius  or 
rapid  training  could  immediately  supply,  was  the 
want  of  engineers.  Washington's  complaints  of 
the  incompetence  of  even  the  few  who  claimed  the 
name  began  with  his  first  letter  from  Cambridge 
to  the  president  of  Congress ;  and  a  year  later  he 
wrote  to  the  Pennsylvania  Committee  of  Safety  that 
he  had  but  one  in  whom  he  could  place  confidence. 
Here  the  necessity  of  looking  to  Europe  for  assist 
ance  was  so  apparent,  that  Congress  directed  the 
Commissioners  at  Paris  to  engage  competent  engi 
neers,  with  the  approbation  of  the  French  court, 
and  with  the  assurance  of  proper  rank  and  pay. 
It  was  to  this  judicious  resolution  that  we  owe  the 
services  of  Duportail,  Launoy,  Radiere,  and  Gou- 
vion,  officers  of  good  standing  in  the  French  army, 
and  who  brought  us  what  we  needed  most,  science, 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  293 

combined  with  practical  skill.  It  was  under  their 
direction  that  most  of  the  important  works  of  the 
war,  from  1777  to  its  close,  were  constructed.  Du 
portail  was  rewarded  in  1781  with  a  commission  of 
major-general ;  and  when  he  left  the  country,  in 
1783,  carried  with  him  the  strongest  expressions 
of  the  esteem  and  regard  of  Washington.  Radi- 
dre  died  in  1779,  regretted  by  all  as  a  valuable 
officer.  Gouvion,  like  Duportail,  distinguished 
himself  by  brilliant  service  at  Yorktown,  and 
good  service  everywhere.  Launoy  is  classed  by 
Washington  with  the  other  three  as  having  ac 
quired  general  esteem  and  confidence.  If  every 
ibreign  officer  had  served  as  they  did,  Washington 
would  have  been  spared  one  of  his  greatest  trials. 
But  there  were  men  among  them  of  a  very  differ 
ent  stamp. 

Shortly  before  the  arrival  of  Duportail  and  his 
companions  came  Thomas  Conway,  an  Irishman 
by  birth,  but  who,  in  the  course  of  a  thirty  years' 
service,  had  risen  to  the  rank  of  colonel  in  the 
French  army.  He  now  was  anxious  to  become 
an  American  citizen,  as  he  told  the  credulous 
Silas  Deane,  but  still  more  anxious  to  become  an 
American  general,  as  Congress  soon  discovered. 
With  an  apparent  frankness,  which,  in  the  be 
ginning,  produced  a  favorable  impression  even 
upon  the  cautious  mind  of  Washington,  he  stated 
his  claims,  told  the  story  of  his  military  experience, 
and,  winning  favor  with  Congress,  was  made  briga- 


294  LECTURE  IX. 

dier-general.  It  was  the  year  of  the  Brandywine, 
and  his  conduct  on  that  occasion  appeared  all  the 
more  favorably  from  its  contrast  with  the  conduct 
of  Deborre,  another  adventurer,  who  had  been 
raised  to  the  same  rank  a  few  weeks  earlier.  But 
it  was  the  year,  too,  as  all  remember,  of  that  sud 
den  tide  of  unmerited  success  in  the  North  which 
emboldened  Washington's  personal  enemies  to  com 
bine  their  strength  against  him,  and  set  up  Gates 
as  his  rival.  How  far  this  conspiracy  extended  in 
Congress  and  out  of  Congress,  is  not  positively 
known.  That  Washington  was  to  have  been  set 

O 

aside,  seems  well  established ;  and  with  him  the 
two  generals  whom  he  most  trusted,  Greene  and 
Knox.  That  Gates  was  to  have  been  put  in  his 
place,  seems  equally  well  established ;  but  how  far 
he  was  a  leader  in  the  plot,  or  how  far  the  mere 
tool  of  men  more  artful  than  himself,  is  not  equally 
clear.  Conway,  who  had  been  made  a  brigadier 
in  May,  was  made  inspector-general,  with  the  rank 
of  major-general,  in  December,  when  the  plot  was 
at  its  height ;  and  even  after  his  intrigues  became 
known,  an  expedition  to  Canada  was  got  up  by  his 
friends  in  Congress,  in  order  to  give  him  the  oppor 
tunity  of  distinguishing  himself  at  Washington's 
expense.  But  it  is  seldom  that  all  the  members  of 
a  conspiracy  can  command  their  passions  so  com 
pletely  as  to  conceal  their  hopes  from  those  with 
whom  they  live  on  familiar  terms.  Confident  in 
the  success  of  his  schemes,  Conway  vented,  in  a 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  29,'i 

letter  to  Gates,  all  the  venom  of  his  enmity  to 
Washington,  mixed  with  extravagant  adulation  of 
the  successful  general ;  and  Gates,  intoxicated  by 
the  flattery,  showed  the  letter  to  Wilkinson.  Wil 
kinson  (I  wish  he  had  had  a  good  motive  for  it) 
repeated  one  of  the  most  obnoxious  passages  at  the 
table  of  Lord  Stirling,  and  Stirling,  a  frank  and 
open-hearted  man,  moved  both  by  his  attachment 
to  Washington  and  his  indignation  at  the  duplicity 
of  Gates  and  Conway,  communicated  it  immediate 
ly  to  Washington  himself,  in  a  letter  which  does 
as  much  honor  to  his  heart  as  to  his  head.  Once 
on  his  guard,  Washington  met  the  attack  with  his 
habitual  judgment  and  decision.  Gates  blustered, 
shuffled,  and  equivocated  ;  but,  backed  by  strong 
partisans,  contrived  to  hold  his  ground  till  the 
test-day  of  Camden,  when  even  his  warmest  par 
tisans  were  compelled  to  abandon  him.  Conway, 
too,  blustered,  wrote  impertinent  letters,  tried  mag 
nanimity,  injured  innocence,  violated  indepen 
dence,  and  all  the  stale  tricks  and  subterfuges  of 
rogues  detected  in  their  roguery  ;  but  mistaking 
his  strength,  for  he  had  no  real  hold  even  upon  his 
fellow  conspirators,  he  threw  up  his  commission  in  a 
pet,  then  tried  to  get  it  back  again  and  failed  ;  was 
wounded  in  a  duel  which  his  intemperate  language 
had  brought  upon  him,  and,  while  on  what  he  sup 
posed  to  be  his  death-bed,  wrote  an  humble  apology 
to  the  great  man  whom  he  had  injured.  But  the 
wound,  though  severe,  was  not  mortal.  He  re- 


29G  LECTURE  IX. 

covered,  and  made  his  way  back  to  France,  to  lire 

—  history  does  not  tell  how,  and  die  —  no  one  has 
asked  where,  but  leaving  in  American  history  a 
name  second  only  to  that  of  Benedict  Arnold,  untiJI 
the  rival  treasons  of  these  latter  days  had  robbed 
even  that  name  of  its  bad  pre-eminence. 

I  hurry  over  these  scenes  :  nor  will  I  dwell  on 
the  name  of  De  Neuville,  or  on  those  claims  which 
made  many  other  adventurers  objects  of  jealousy 
to  the  Americans,  and  even  drew  bitter  complaints 
from  Washington.  We  have  no  means  of  esti 
mating  their  individual  services,  or  of  ascertaining 
how  far  they  made  up  by  knowledge  and  skill  for 
the  trouble  they  gave  by  their  pretensions.  But 
we  do  know,  that  the  pretensions  of  many  among 
them  were  sources  of  well-founded  discontent  to 
native  officers,  and  of  constant  uneasiness  to  the 
Commander-in-chief,  to  whose  door  all  bickerings 
and  all  complaints  sooner  or  later  made  their  way. 
There  are  names,  however,  which  I  would  gladly 
dwell  upon.  I  would  gladly  tell  of  Fleury's  bril 
liant  charge  up  the  steep  ascent  of  Stoney  Point, 
and  De  Kalb's  generous  death  on  the  fatal  field  of 
Camden.  I  would  gladly  speak  of  the  "great 
zeal,  activity,  vigilance,  intelligence,  and  courage  " 

—  I  use  Washington's  words  —  of  the   Chevalier 
Armand,   Marquis   de  la   Rouerie.      Longfellow's 
verses  have  given  immortal  freshness  to  the  name 
of  Pulaski.     But  the  reader  of  Campbell  knows 
Kosciusko  only  as  the  champion  of  Polish  liberty. 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.         *   297 

Let  me  add  a  few  words  to  this  record  of  the  gal 
lant  Pole,  before  I  pass  to  the  two  great  names  of 
my  subject,  —  Lafayette  and  Steuben. 

Disappointed  love  brought  him  to  America. 
"What  do  you  seek  here?"  asked  Washington, 
after  reading  Franklin's  letter  of  introduction. 
44  To  fight  for  American  freedom."  "What  can 
you  do  ?  "  "  Try  me." 

After  a  short  service  in  Washington's  family,  as 
aid,  he  was  made  colonel  of  engineers,  and  sent  to 
the  Northern  army.  Here  his  military  training 
stood  him  in  good  stead.  All  the  important  works 
were  intrusted  to  his  care.  It  was  he  that  planned 
the  strong  line  of  entrenchments  which  proved  so 
useful  at  Bemis's  Heights.  It  is  to  him  also  that 
we  owe  the  fortifications  of  West  Point,  where  a 
romantic  spot  on  a  ledge  of  the  precipitous  wall 
that  overhangs  the  Hudson  is  still  pointed  out  as 
the  Garden  of  Kosciusko.  When  General  Greene 
was  sent  to  take  command  of  the  Southern  army, 
Kosciusko  was  placed  at  the  head  of  his  engineers  ; 
and  during  the  whole  of  that  active  campaign,  no 
one,  in  his  appropriate  sphere,  was  more  active  or 
more  usefol  than  the  gallant  young  Pole  in  his. 
It  was  not  till  the  war  was  over,  and  American  in 
dependence  secured,  that  he  again  turned  his  face 
towards  Europe.  One  part  of  his  task  was  accom 
plished.  The  hour  for  the  other  was  rapidly  draw 
ing  nigh ;  and  when  it  came,  it  found  him  prepared 
to  do  all  that  it  required,  and  bear  all  that  it 

13* 


298  LECTURE  IX. 

imposed,  as  became  the  friend  and  disciple  of 
Washington.  There  ended  his  public  career.  The 
long  years  that  remained,  a  third  almost  of  his 
whole  life,  were  passed  in  retirement,  and  nothing 
can  exceed  the  dignity  whicli  his  calm  and  consist 
ent  patriotism  shed  around  them.  Napoleon  sought 
to  lure  him  from  his  retreat,  and  failed.  Alex 
ander  listened  respectfully  to  his  intercessions  for 
his  exiled  countrymen.  And  when  he  died,  the 
women  of  Poland  went  into  mourning,  and  his 
ashes  were  carried  reverently  back  from  the  land 
of  exile,  to  sleep  on  their  native  soil  in  the  tomb  of 
Poland's  kings. 

I  said  that  the  two  great  names  of  my  subject 
were  Lafayette  and  Steuben, — the  mercurial 
Frenchman,  and  the  systematic  German.  Next 
to  the  two  or  three  greatest  of  our  own  great  men, 
no  men  rendered  such  important  service  as  they ; 
and  it  is  no  trifling  addition  to  its  value  that  it  was 
a  kind  of  service  which  none  but  such  men  could 
have  rendered.  None  but  a  young  enthusiast  of 
high  rank  and  large  fortune  could  have  broken 
through  the  barriers  which  instinct,  habit,  diploma 
cy,  and  even  sound  statesmanship,  had  placed  be 
tween  a  rebel  Congress  and  an  absolute  monarch. 
None  but  a  soldier  of  long  experience,  deeply  read 
in  the  principles  of  his  profession,  and  practically 
familiar  with  their  applications,  would  have  known 
how  to  apply  them  to  the  wants  of  an  army  organ 
ized  so  differently  and  composed  of  such  different 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  299 

materials  from  those  for  which  tacticians  had 
framed  their  precepts,  and  generals  had  written 
their  instructions.  Their  characters,  too,  were  as 
different  as  the  parts  which  they  performed :  each 
partaking  largely  of  those  distinctive  traits  which 
belong  to  all  Germans,  on  the  one  side,  and  to  all 
Frenchmen  on  the  other,  and  each  equally  distin 
guished  by  characteristic  traits  of  his  own. 

They  were  both  men  of  good  talents,  though 
neither  of  them  could  lay  claim  to  that  rarer  order 
of  mind  which  distinguishes  the  man  of  talent  from 
the  man  of  genius.  They  were  both  personally 
brave,  cool  and  self-possessed  in  the  hour  of  dan 
ger.  They  were  both  capable  of  great  exertions 
and  great  endurance;  both  equally  fond  of  that 
degree  of  convivial  enjoyment  which  betokens 
geniality  of  nature  rather  than  grossness  of  taste. 
They  both  possessed  that  species  of  cultivation 
which  the  habit  of  cultivated  society  gives;  and 
read,  wrote,  and  thought  carefully  whenever  pro 
fessional  duty  required  careful  study.  But  neither 
of  them  loved  books  for  themselves,  or  took  much 
pleasure  in  them  beyond  their  bearing  upon  the 
practical  questions  in  which  they  were  more  directly 
interested.  They  botli  had  a  high  sense  of  honor, 
and  ready  sympathies,  possessing  and  inspiring 
strong  affections  ;  and  both,  independently  of 
the  adventitious  circumstances  which  gave  them  a 
prominent  place  in  society,  would  have  made  thum- 
selves  generally  acceptable  to  men  of  refined  and 


300  LECTURE  IX. 

generous  natures  by  the  natural  refinement  and 
generosity  of  their  own. 

Here  the  parallel  ceases.  Lafayette  was  born  to 
high  rank  and  independent  fortune.  He  had  re 
ceived  the  education  of  a  man  to  whom  all  the 
paths  of  preferment  were  open  ;  and  at  seventeen 
was  already  a  husband  and  a  father.  His  marriage 
with  a  lady  of  equal  rank  and  fortune  with  himself 
had  strengthened  his  position  at  court,  and  seemed 
to  mark  out  the  line  of  duty  and  ambition  for  him 
as  clearly  as  birth  and  alliance  could  draw  it.  As 
a  boy,  he  had  already  taken  the  first  step  by  enter 
ing  one  of  those  regiments  which  raised  men  most 
rapidly,  —  the  mousquetaires  noirs  ;  and  when  he 
left  the  French  for  the  American  army  was  a  lieu 
tenant.  Thus  he  had  learnt  the  rudiments  of  his 
profession  early :  was  familiar  with  garrison  duty 
and  parade  duty  as  far  as  it  was  incumbent  upon  a 
Marquis  to  know  them,  but  had  never  seen  actual 
service,  and  had  never  commanded  a  regiment. 

Steuben  was  the  son  of  a  captain  of  engineers ; 
—  born  in  a  garrison,  and  with  no  prospect  of  for 
tune  or  preferment  but  such  as  he  could  open  for 
himself  with  his  sword.  His  earliest  associations 
were  with  armies  and  camps.  When  a  mere  child 
he  had  followed  his  father  to  the  Crimea  and  Cron- 
stadt,  and  played  among  the  fortifications  that  the 
old  soldier  was  constructing  with  much  professional 
skill  and  absolute  professional  indifference  as  to 
whom  tli  ey  defended  or  who  might  lose  his  life  in 


THE   FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  301 

winning- them.     Then  came  two  or  three  years  of 
study  in  a  Jesuit  college,  where  he  laid  good  foun 
dations  in  mathematics  and  history,  and  acquired 
some  tincture  of  polite  literature.     French,  under 
Frederic,  was  as  important  a  language  for  a  Ger 
man  who  wished  to  push  his  fortunes  as  German 
itself;  and  Steuben  studied  them  both  with  equal 
care.     But  the  sound  of  the  drum  broke  rudely  in 
upon  these  softening  pursuits,  and  before  he  was 
fully  turned  of  fourteen,   and  while  Washington 
was  learning  arithmetic,  and  filling  his  copy-book 
with  legal  and  mercantile  forms  at  Mr.  Williams's 
school,  near  Bridge's  Creek,  his  future  inspector- 
general  was  already  serving  as  a  volunteer  in  the 
campaign  of  1744,  at  the  siege  of  Prague.     The 
upward  path  in  the  Prussian  army  was  a  hard  path 
to  climb,  and  many  there  were  who  left  arms  and 
legs  and  life  itself  by  the  way.     Young  Steuben 
entered  it  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  high-spirited 
youth,  reared  in  the  midst  of  warlike  exercises  and 
traditions   of  military    glory.       When  the   Seven 
Years'  War  broke  out,  he  had  already  reached  the 
rank  of  first  lieutenant.      Meanwhile,  his  leisure 
hours  had  been  well  employed :  building  up  surely 
upon  the  foundations  he  had  laid  during  his  short 
college  life,  and  making  himself  master  of  engineer 
ing  and  the  most  difficult  of  the  scientific  parts  of 
his  profession.    Never  before,  in  modern  times,  had 
its  practical  lessons  and  all  its  highest  principles 
been  applied  as  they  were  applied   by  Frederic 


302  LECTURE  IX. 

during  that  bloody  war ;  and  they  who,  like  Steu- 
ben,  fought  through  it  all,  might  well  claim  that 
they  had  studied  in  war's  greatest  school.  Steuben 
had  one  advantage  beyond  most  of  his  comrades, 
and  an  advantage  which  was  at  the  same  time  the 
highest  distinction.  Frederic,  who,  in  the  distribu 
tion  of  his  military  favors  never  took  birth  or  for 
tune  or  anything  but  merit  into  consideration,  had 
chosen  among  his  younger  officers  a  select  number 
to  study  under  his  own  eye,  teaching  and  exam 
ining  them  himself.  Steuben  was  one  of  them. 

With  the  peace  of  1762  the  prospect  of  military 
preferment  ceased,  and,  withdrawing  from  the 
Prussian  army,  with  at  least  one  uncommon  testi 
monial  of  Frederic's  esteem,  a  pecuniary  reward, 
he  entered  the  service  of  the  Prince  of  Hohen- 
zollern  Hechingen,  as  grand  marshal  of  his  court, 
—  an  office  of  the  highest  trust  and  dignity.  The 
next  ten  years  —  those  years  during  which  the 
war  on  whose  fortunes  he  was  to  exert  such  an  in 
fluence  was  a  ripening  —  he  passed  in  a  dignified 
ease,  differing  little  from  idleness :  in  directing  the 
elaborate  ceremonial  of  a  court,  in  travelling  with 
his  new  sovereign,  and  in  social  intercourse  with 
the  eminent  men  whom  his  official  position  made 
his  acquaintances,  and  his  personal  qualities  often 
made  his  friends.  But  the  Prince  was  a  Papist,  and 
Steuben  a  firm  Protestant,  and  thus,  after  over  ten 
years'  faithful  service,  he  found  himself  compelled 
to  resign  his  office,  in  order  to  escape  a  persecu- 


THE   FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  303 

tion  which  the  priests  of  the  court — jealous  of 
his  influence  with  the  sovereign  —  had  stirred  up 
against  him.  At  this  time  there  was  a  prospect  of 
another  war,  and  a  sudden  longing  for  his  old  pro 
fession  seized  him.  But  till  war  should  actually 
break  out  there  were  serious  difficulties  in  obtain 
ing  employment  in  the  rank  he  felt  himself  entitled 
to ;  and  when  the  cloud  passed  he  became  again 
a  wanderer  about  the  pleasant  places  of  Europe, 
forming  new  friendships  and  cultivating  the  old. 
His  fortune,  though  small,  was  ample  for  his  mode 
of  life.  His  ambition,  though  not  fully  gratified, 
had  been  honorably  rewarded  ;  and  with  abundant 
sources  of  enjoyment  at  command,  he  might  natu 
rally  have  imagined  that,  at  the  age  of  forty-seven, 
his  public  career  was  closed  forever. 

But  now  France,  already  half  embarked  in  the 
contest,  was  looking  about  her  for  the  means  of 
rendering  the  Americans  substantial  aid.  Money 
was  given  secretly;  arms  and  ammunition  were  sup 
plied  under  an  assumed  name ;  but  neither  money 
nor  arms  could  avail  without  a  well-organized  and 
disciplined  army.  St.  Germain,  the  French  Minisv- 
ter  of  War,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Frederic's 
military  system,  which  he  had  tried  ineffectually 
to  introduce  into  Denmark,  and  was  now  trying  to 
introduce  into  France,  had  no  confidence  in  un 
trained  soldiers,  and  knew  that  the  Americans  had 
no  officer  qualified  to  train  theirs.  He  cast  his 
eyes  upon  Steuben,  whom  he  knew  personally  ; 


304  LECTURE  IX. 

and  at  this  moment,  Steuben,  wholly  unconscious 
of  his  intentions,  came  to  Paris.  The  negotiation 
was  not  without  its  difficulties.  It  was  known  that 
American  officers  were  jealous  of  foreign  officers. 
It  was  known  that  the  Congress  had  refused  to  ful 
fil  Deane's  engagements  with  Ducoudray.  The 
Commissioners  themselves  openly  declared  their 
inability  to  advance  even  passage-money  for  the 
voyage.  The  service  required  corresponding  rank, 
and  to  secure  that  rank  beforehand  was  impossible. 
The  enthusiasm  of  liberty  might  have  overborne 
these  and  all  other  obstacles ;  but  Steuben  had  no 
enthusiasm  for  liberty.  As  a  man  of  the  world  he 
knew  the  importance  of  rank.  As  a  soldier  he 
loved  the  active  exercise  of  his  profession.  He 
had  a  slumbering  ambition  which  the  prospect 
of  distinction  might  easily  arouse.  But  in  this 
untried  field  there  was  neither  the  certainty  of 
employment,  nor  the  assurance  of  rank,  nor  even 
the  definite  promise  of  pecuniary  reward.  It  was 
an  adventure,  beginning  in  sacrifice,  and  full  of 
doubt  and  hazard  by  the  way. 

But  St.  Germain's  heart  was  in  the  negotiation. 
Beaumarchais  brought  his  ready  wit  and  persuasive 
eloquence  to  the  task,  and  on  the  1st  of  December, 
1777,  Steuben  landed  from  a  sixty-six  days'  stormy 
passage  at  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire. 

Lafayette  had  already  been  six  months  a  major- 
general  in  the  American  army.  The  same  court 
which  had  exerted  all  its  influence  to  gain  over 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  305 

Steuben  for  the  Americans,  employed  all  its 
authority  to  prevent  Lafayette  from  coming  to 
their  aid.  Romance  has  no  chapter  more  fasci 
nating  than  the  chapter  in  which  sober  history 
tells  how  this  boy  of  nineteen  eluded  the  spies 
and  agents  of  a  watchful  ministry,  and  accom 
plished  his  designs  in  spite  of  obstacles  that  might 
have  made  the  boldest  hesitate.  From  the  mo 
ment  in  which  he  had  heard  of  the  American 
war  from  the  mouth  of  King  George's  brother, 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  he  had  felt  a  noble 
longing  to  take  the  part  of  a  people  fighting 
for  their  liberties.  It  was  like  a  sudden  revela 
tion  of  the  purpose  for  which  rank  and  fortune 
had  been  given  him.  Life  had  now  an  object 
worthy  of  all  his  devotion.  What  were  the 
smiles  of  princes  to  the  blessings  of  a  liberated 
people  !  What  were  ribbons  and  crosses  and  titles 
to  the  name  of  champion  of  human  rights  !  What 
was  there  in  the  knowledge  that  he  had  helped  in 
adding  a  few  miles  of  territory  or  a  few  thousands 
of  fellow-subjects  to  the  possessions  of  an  absolute 
monarch,  that  could  compare  with  the  conviction 
of  having  helped  in  building  up  a  nation  of  free 
men  !  How  sweet  would  sacrifices  seem  in  such  a 
cause  !  What  a  serene  consciousness  of  duty  per 
formed  would  mingle  its  soothing  influences  with 
the  pains  of  separation  from  family  and  friends ! 
And  if  he  should  never  see  them  again,  —  if  it 
should  be  his  fate  to  die  on  the  battle-field,  as  his 


306  LECTURE  IX. 

father  had  died,  —  what  a  proud  consolation,  what 
an  inspiring  example,  what  a  stimulant  to  great 
and  noble  deeds  would  it  be  for  his  children  to 
know  that  their  father  had  died  in  the  cause  of 
truth,  of  justice,  and  of  humanity ! 

From  the  beginning  Lafayette  attached  himself 
to  Washington  ;  not  merely  as  the  commander-in- 
chief,  whom  it  was  his  duty  to  obey,  but  as  a  pater 
nal  friend,  whom  it  was  a  pleasure  to  love.  This 
gave1  a  direction  to  his  views  of  men  and  things  in 
Congress  and  in  camp,  which  preserved  him  from 
the  mistakes  into  which  so  young  a  man,  so  sud 
denly  transported  into  a  new  scene,  and  charged 
with  such  grave  responsibilities,  might  easily  have 
fallen.  Washington's  friends  became  his  friends, 
Washington's  aims  his  aims.  No  simple-hearted 
boy,  fresh  from  his  native  village,  could  have  de 
meaned  himself  more  modestly  than  this  young 
nobleman,  fresh  from  the  first  circles  of  the  most 
polished  city  of  Europe.  He  knew  that  he  had 
much  to  learn,  and  he  set  himself  to  learn  it  with 
a  deep  conviction  of  its  importance,  and  implicit 
confidence  in  his  teachers.  In  elementary  tactics 
he  was  better  grounded,  perhaps,  than  most  of  his 
brother  officers.  In  higher  science  many  of  them 
were  still  students  as  much  as  he.  But  in  the 
government  of  a  free  people,  in  the  art  of  drawing 
out  the  resources  of  a  country  in  which  every  man 
had  a  voice  and  an  opinion  of  his  own,  in  the  form 
ing  and  guiding  and  sustaining  public  sentiment, 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  307 

all  was  new  to  him,  all  was  as  much  at  variance 
with  his  habits  and  associations  as  it  was  in  har 
mony  with  his  instincts  and  feelings.  Of  all  these 
things  Washington's  camp  was  a  practical  school. 

Nor  was  it  less  a  school  of  systematic  and  un 
tiring  industry.  Hard  work,  as  well  as  hard  fare, 
was  the  lot  of  most  American  generals ;  but  those 
who  sought  a  larger  share  of  Washington's  confi 
dence,  had  a  double  share  of  both.  The  saddle 
and  the  writing-desk,  the  sword  and  the  pen,  in 
rapid  and  constant  alternation,  left  little  room  for 
amusement,  or  even  rest,  in  the  active  parts  of  a 
campaign ;  and  though  winter  quarters  brought 
some  relaxations,  there  was  still  work  enough  to 
task  the  most  diligent  pen  and  the  most  active 
mind. 

Lafayette  fell  into  this  new  mode  of  life  as  easily 
as  if  he  had  been  trained  to  it.  In  his  manners 
there  was  a  polished  dignity  which  suited  well  with 
Washington's  ideas  of  the  proprieties  of  social  inter 
course  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  readiness  to  meet 
the  wishes  and  enter  into  the  feelings  of  others, 
which  made  him  acceptable  to  men  of  every  class. 
The  Marquis  soon  became  a  familiar  appellation 
in  camp ;  and  soon,  too,  his  munificent  generosity 
and  untiring  benevolence  won  for  him,  every 
where,  the  still  dearer  appellation  of  the  soldiers' 
friend. 

In  all  this  he  was,  unconsciously,  perhaps,  in 
the  beginning,  but  afterwards  with  a  thorough 


308  LECTURE  IX. 

consciousness  and  well-directed  exertions,  ren 
dering  important  service  to  the  cause  to  which  he 
had  devoted  himself.  Of  the  opinions  and  preju 
dices  which  the  American  Colonists  brought  with 
them  from  their  native  island,  there  were  none 
which  they  had  preserved  more  carefully  than  their 
derogatory  opinions  of  Frenchmen  and  their  preju 
dices  against  France.  That  one  Englishman  could 
whip  three  Frenchmen  was  as  fundamental  an  arti 
cle  of  Colonial  as  of  English  belief.  In  French 
politeness  they  saw  nothing  but  heartless  vanity. 
In  French  society  nothing  but  sensuality  and  cor 
ruption.  The  perfidious  French  government  was 
still  seeking  to  outwit  the  honest,  unsuspecting 
government  of  England.  And  even  when  stripped, 
by  the  peace  of  1763,  of  her  possessions  on  the 
Colonial  frontier,  France,  although  no  longer  an 
object  of  immediate  apprehension,  was  none  the 
less  an  object  of  dislike. 

But  American  statesmen  well  knew  that  in  their 
unequal  contest  with  the  most  powerful  nation  of 
Europe,  France  was  their  first,  if  not  their  only, 
ally.  They  needed  French  arms.  They  needed 
French  money.  They  might  need  French  ships 
of  war,  and  French  soldiers.  This  reflection  had 
led  them  to  welcome,  as  a  happy  omen,  the  first 
appearance  of  military  adventurers  from  France, 
and  added  not  a  little  to  the  embarrassment  of 
Congress  when  they  became  so  numerous  as  to 
make  it  necessary  to  refuse  their  offers  of  service. 


THE   FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  309 

Yet  the  minds  of  these  statesmen  were  not  free 
from  the  hereditary  prejudice,  as  the  conduct  of 
John  Adams  and  John  Jay  clearly  showed,  at  a 
moment  when  all  prejudice  ought  to  have  ceased : 
nor  the  minds  of  generals,  and  still  less  of  inferior 
officers,  as  plainly  appeared  in  the  expedition 
against  Rhode  Island.  What,  then,  could  be  ex 
pected —  or  rather,  what  was  not  to  be  feared  — 
when  well-dressed  and  well-paid  French  soldiers 
should  be  brought  to  serve  side  by  side  with  the 
half-naked  soldiers  of  America  ? 

To  smooth  these  difficulties,  to  overcome  these 
prejudices,  to  convert  antipathy  into  confidence 
and  jealousy  into  an  honorable  and  friendly  emu 
lation,  was  the  first  good  office  which  Lafayette 
rendered  his  adopted  country.  His  money  gave 
him  the  means  of  doing  many  little  acts  of  season 
able  kindness,  and  he  did  them  with  a  grace  which 
doubled  their  value.  His  rank  enabled  him  to  as 
sume  a  tone  with  his  dissatisfied  countrymen  which 
sometimes  checked  their  arrogance  and  often  set 
bounds  to  their  pretensions.  A  true  Frenchman 
in  impulse,  chivalrous  sense  of  honor,  and  liveliness 
of  perception,  he  taught  Americans  to  bear  more 
readily  with  qualities,  which  his  example  showed 
them,  might  easily  be  united  with  the  perseverance, 
the  firmness  of  principle  and  the  soundness  of 
judgment  which  they  had  been  wont  to  set  above 
all  other  qualities.  The  French  alliance  might 
have  been  gained  without  Lafayette  ;  but  the  bar- 


Sj.j  LECTURE  IX. 

mony  of  feeling  which  made  it  practically  available, 
was  in  a  large  measure  owing  to  the  hold  which 
Lafayette  had  taken  upon  the  confidence  and  the 
affections  of  the  American  army  and  the  American 
people. 

And  but  for  him  that  alliance  might  have 
come  too  late.  It  is  true  that  he  came  to  us  in 
defiance  of  his  government,  escaping  in  disguise 
the  lettre  de  cachet  which  a  ministry,  alarmed 
and  shocked  at  his  disobedience,  had  issued  against 
him.  But  it  is  no  less  true  that  the  sympathetic 
enthusiasm  of  Paris  was  raised  to  the  highest  pitch 
by  this  display  of  a  chivalrous  daring,  which  Paris 
ians  prize  so  highly ;  and  that  the  English  court 
was  fully  persuaded  that  he  had  done  nothing  but 
what  his  own  court  approved.  Thus  the  French 
government  found  itself  strengthened  at  home  for 
an  open  declaration,  and  stimulated  from  abroad 
by  the  increasing  jealousy  of  its  powerful  rival. 
Lafayette's  hand  is  almost  as  visible  in  the  treaty 
of  alliance  as  the  hand  of  Franklin  himself. 

In  all  that  follows  it  is  still  everywhere  apparent. 
When  he  had  done  all  that,  for  the  moment,  he 
could  do  for  us  here,  he  went  back  to  France  to 
work  for  us  there.  "  He  would  strip  Versailles 
for  his  Americans,"  cried  Maurepas,  half  annoyed, 
half  irritated,  by  his  urgent  appeals  for  full  and 
effectual  succor.  Bat  his  magnetic  enthusiasm 
prevailed,  and  the  succor  came.  When  the  work 
in  France  was  done,  he  hastened  back  to  America, 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  811 

then  once  more  to  France,  and  next  to  Spain,  and 
all  for  the  glorious  cause  to  which  he  had  devoted 
himself,  —  the  cause,  to  his  eyes,  of  human  nature 
and  human  rights, 

I  have  said  nothing  of  his  services  inthefield,— of 
his  gallant  bearing  at  the  Brandywine ;  of  his  skil 
ful  retreat  from  Barren  Hill  ;  of  Momnouth,  and 
Tiverton  Heights,  and  the  brilliant  Virginia  cam 
paign  of  1781  ;  for  although  in  all  of  them  he  dis 
played  sound  judgment  and  high  military  talent, 
there  was  nothing  in  them  which  other  generals 
might  not  have  done  as  well  as  he.  But  his  pure 
purpose,  his  noble  aims,  his  intelligent  zeal,  his 
fervid  enthusiasm,  his  modest  bearing,  his  winning 
amenity,  his  judicious  and  persevering  application 
to  a  great  and  noble  purpose  of  the  means  and  the 
influence  which  thousands,  born  to  pursuits  and 
expectations  like  his,  were  wasting  in  selfish  pleas 
ures  and  still  more  selfish  ambition,  have  given  him 
a  place  in  American  history  which,  of  all  those  who 
fought  or  who  worked  for  us,  belongs  to  him  alone. 

Steuben  found  the  American  army  in  their  win 
ter  huts  at  Valley  Forge.  Familiar  from  his  in 
fancy  with  the  hardships  and  sufferings  of  military 
life,  he  had  never  seen  such  suffering  before.  Had 
he  been  a  mere  adventurer,  he  would  have  prompt 
ly  retraced  his  steps,  for  there  was  nothing  there 
to  allure  an  adve/iturer  of  his  rank  and  position. 
Had  he  been  a  cold  and  calculating  man,  he  would 
have  found  still  less  to  satisfv  him  in  this  first  view 


312  LECTURE   IX. 

of  his  future  companions.  But  he  was  a  man  of 
warm  feelings,  quick  sympatliies,  strong  impulses. 
While  in  Europe  he  had  hesitated  whether  it  would 
be  worth  his  while  to  give  up  the  quiet  enjoyments 
of  a  secure  position  for  the  hazards  of  an  adventur 
ous  enterprize.  But  the  prospect  of  military  glory 
had  aroused  his  slumbering  ambition.  The  interest 
which  the  French  ministers  and  the  Spanish  am 
bassador  took  in  the  American  cause,  convinced 
him  that  it  was  not  a  hopeless  one.  As  he  thought 
over  the  scenes  of  his  early  life,  and  recalled  the 
excitements  of  the  profession  he  had  loved  so  dear 
ly,  his  imagination  kindled,  and  the  glow  of  youth 
returned.  For  human  liberty  and  human  rights 
he  had  no  enthusiasm,  for  Frederic's  was  not  the 
school  in  which  such  enthusiasm  was  to  be  kindled. 
But  he  had  the  enthusiasm  of  his  profession.  Its 
details  were  full  of  interest  for  his  accurate  and 
systematic  mind ;  its  higher  principles  suggestive 
of  questions  that  aiforded  him  an  exhaustless  field 
of  meditation.  And  as  he  meditated,  even  in  the 
midst  of  the  splendid  frivolities  of  a  court,  he  had 
often  sighed  for  an  opportunity  to  test  them  for 
himself  from  a  higher  point  of  view  than  any  which 
he  had  yet  reached.  Thus  love  for  his  profession, 
the  hope  of  military  glory,  the  probability  of  an  in 
crease  of  fortune,  combined  with  the  persuasion  of 
friends  whom  he  trusted,  and  that  restlessness  and 
longing  for  change  which,  wh'en  youth  has  been 
passed  in  exciting  scenes,  is  always  sure  to  follow 


THE   FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  313 

the  first  intervals  of  repose,  were  the  motives  which 
brought  him  to  America. 

But  once  here,  pride,  high  sense  of  honor,  and 
lively  sympathies,  led  him  to  enter  into  the  cause 
of  freedom  as  if  he  had  never  known  any  other. 
The  habits  of  the  soldier  had  not  blunted  the  sensi 
bilities  of  the  man,  and  his  genial  nature  drew  men 
towards  him  wherever  he  went.  He  was  soon  on 
an  intimate  footing  with  his  brother  officers ;  re 
spected  for  his  superior  knowledge,  and  loved  for 
his  warm  heart.  Like  Lafayette,  he  attached  him 
self  especially  to  Washington  ;  not,  indeed,  with 
the  tender  veneration  of  the  young  Frenchman, 
but  with  a  sincere  respect  and  perfect  confidence. 

Deference  for  his  opinion  was  easy,  for  it  was 
always  a  judicious  opinion,  frankly  expressed,  and 
sustained  by  sound  reasons.  And  confidence  in 
his  motives  and  reliance  on  his  justice  were  easy 
for  one  whose  whole  life  had  been  passed  in  that 
kind  of  intercourse  with  his  fellow-men  which 
brings  out  in  peculiar  relief  all  the  qualities  essen 
tial  to  harmonious  relations  between  superior  and 
inferior.  Nor  does  it  detract  from  the  sincerity  of 
his  respect  for  Washington,  although  it  may  be 
justly  considered  as  a  proof  of  the  soundness  of  his 
own  judgment,  and  his  vast  intellectual  superiority 
to  such  men  as  Lee,  Gates,  and  Conway,  that  he 
saw  that  the  surest  way  to  the  accomplishment  of 
his  own  designs  was  by  securing  for  them  the 
approbation  of  the  Commander-in-chief.  To  feel 

14 


314  LECTURE  IX. 

that  Washington  was  the  only  man  who  could  fill 
the  first  place  was  to  share  the  feelings  and  con 
victions  which  enabled  Greene,  and  Knox,  and 
Hamilton  to  perform  their  parts  so  well  in  their 
own. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  defective  organ 
ization  of  the  American  army,  —  a  defectiveness 
which  extended  from  the  drill  of  the  common  sol 
dier  to  the  administration  of  all  the  ramifications 
of  the  Quartermaster-General's  department.  Few 
American  officers  had  accurate  ideas  of  manoeuvring 
their  men,  and  there  were  no  books  from  which  they 
could  acquire  them :  the  elementary  treatises  of  that 
day  being  almost  as  imperfect  as  the  treatises  upon 
the  higher  principles  of  the  art.  From  such  sources 
as  he  could  command,  each  officer  had  drawn  a  sys 
tem  of  his  own  ;  thus  destroying  all  uniformity  in  a 
matter  of  which  uniformity  is  the  most  essential 
element.  Equally  imperfect  were  the  system  of  in 
spection,  involving,  among  other  losses,  an  annual 
loss  of  more  than  five  thousand  muskets,  and  the 
system  of  returns,  by  which  hundreds  of  names 
were  retained  on  the  pay-rolls  long  after  the  bear 
ers  of  them  had  left  the  service,  and  superior 
officers,  from  the  commander  of  a  brigade  to  the 
Commander-in-chief,  kept  in  dangerous  ignorance 
of  the  number  and  condition  of  their  men. 

To  supply  these  deficiencies,  to  introduce  uniform 
systems  of  manoeuvre,  inspection,  and  returns,  to 
infuse  a  spirit  of  order  and  harmony  into  all  the  de- 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  315 

partments  of  the  army,  to  inspire  officers  with  self- 
reliance  and  an  instinctive  perception  of  whatever 
the  moment  might  require,  and  men  with  confi 
dence  in  their  officers  and  prompt  and  intelligent 
obedience  to  their  orders,  was  the  task  of  Steuben, 
a  task  which  can  only  be  appreciated  by  those 
who  take  the  pains  to  study,  in  detail,  the  diffi 
culties  with  which  he  had  to  contend. 

He  began  by  examining  his  subject  thoroughly, 
and  preparing  a  full  and  accurate  plan.  With 
this  before  him,  Washington  could  see  what  he 
proposed,  and  tell  him  what  it  would  be  safe 
to  attempt.  A  routine  soldier,  like  the  Prussian 
general  who  thought  to  win  the  battle  of  Jena  by 
ordering  his  men,  in  the  heat  of  the  fight,  to  ad 
vance  their  right  shoulders,  would  have  filled  reams 
with  frivolous  details,  and  proposed  a  thousand  im 
practicable  things.  But  Steuben's  mind  was  thor 
oughly  imbued  with  the  principles  of  his  art,  and 
keeping  his  great  object  constantly  in  view,  he  re 
jected  many  things  as  useless,  postponed  many  to 
a.  more  fitting  time,  and  without  leaving  any  open 
ing  for  negligence  or  inexactness,  adapted  his  in 
struction,  with  marvellous  skill,  to  the  wants  and 
the  condition  of  the  army. 

He  first  drafted  a  hundred  and  twenty  men  from 
the  line,  as  a  guard  for  the  Commander-in-chief. 
This  was  his  school.  Twice  every  day  he  drilled 
them  himself,  teaching  them  to  march,  to  wheel, 
to  bear  arms,  and  even  to  execute  some  element- 


316  LECTURE  IX. 

ary  manoeuvres.  Hitherto,  the  American  officers 
had  left  the  care  of  drilling  the  soldiers  to  their 
sergeants  as  a  thing  below  the  dignity  of  an  officer. 
The  sight  of  a  man  of  Steuben's  rank  and  experi 
ence,  with  his  glittering  star  on  his  breast,  march 
ing  and  wheeling  with  common  soldiers,  taking 
their  muskets  into  his  own  hands  and  showing  them 
how  to  handle  them,  produced  a  great  revulsion  in 
their  ideas,  and  presently  colonels  and  lieutenant- 
colonels  entered  cheerfully  into  the  good  work; 
some,  perhaps,  with  the  feeling  that,  like  Gil  Bias's 
uncle,  they  would  thus  learn  full  as  much  as  they 
taught.  In  a  fortnight  his  school  moved  and 
looked  like  soldiers  ;  and  before  Monmouth  came, 
the  leaven  from  this  little  nucleus  had  penetrated 
the  whole  army. 

Nothing  contributed  more  to  his  success  than  the 
good  sense  with  which  he  adapted  his  instruction 
to  the  circumstances,  and  sometimes  even  to  the 
prejudices,  of  the  men  with  whom  he  had  to  do. 
He  had  discovered  that  some  officers  who  began  by 
the  manual  exercise,  as  the  books  and  all  usage 
prescribed,  had  become  weary,  and  given  it  up  in 
disgust.  He  knew,  too,  that  his  work  must  be 
done  quickly,  or  that  it  would  not  be  done  at  all. 
He  reversed  the  order,  —  began  with  manreuvres 
which  interested  and  gave  immediate  results,  and 
ended  by  the  manual  and  platoon  exercise.  He 
had  observed  that  in  action  Prussian  soldiers, 
trained  to  fire  by  platoons,  and  to  pride  themselves 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  317 

upon  loading  and  firing  several  times  a  minute, 
often,  after  the  first  discharge,  loaded  badly  and 
fired  as  awkwardly  as  their  enemy.  Therefore, 
without  neglecting  platoon  fire,  he  put  it  in  its 
true  place  as  a  thing  of  secondary  importance. 
Never  before  had  an  American  army  been  trained 
like  this  army  of  Valley  Forge.  "  Never,"  said 
Hamilton,  when  at  Monmouth  he  saw  a  division  in 
full  retreat  halt  at  Steuben's  command,  and  form  as 
coolly  under  a  close  and  heavy  fire  as  they  would 
have  formed  on  parade,  —  "  never  did  I  know  or 
conceive  the  value  of  military  discipline  before." 

The  same  happy  results  attended  his  reforms  in 
other  departments.  Returns  were  made  according 
to  prescribed  forms,  and  with  close  attention  to 
minute  and  accurate  specifications.  By  a  glance 
at  the  foot  of  a  column,  Washington  could  at  once 
see  how  many  men  he  might  count  upon  for  actual 
service,  how  many  were  sick  or  disabled,  how  many 
of  each  State  were  enlisted  for  the  war,  and  how 
many  were  to  leave  him  at  the  end  of  the  cam 
paign.  A  regular  and  rigorous  inspection  brought, 
at  stated  times,  the  whole  army  under  the  super 
vision  of  officers  eager  to  show  their  zeal  in  the 
performance  of  a  difficult  duty.  Till  then,  as  1 
have  already  said,  there  had  been  an  annual  loss 
of  more  than  five  thousand  muskets,  and  the  War 
Office,  in  making  out  its  estimates  for  the  year,  had 
regularly  made  allowance  for  that  number.  In 
the  returns,  under  Steuben's  inspectorship,  only 


318  LECTURE  IX. 

three  muskets  were  missing  in  one  year,  and  those 
three  were  accounted  for. 

But  it  was  not  in  dollars  and  cents  that  Steuben's 
services  should  be  estimated,  although  the  sums 
which  this  man,  who  saved  nothing  for  himself, 
annually  saved  to  his  adopted  country,  might  he 
counted  by  thousands.  Like  Lafayette,  he  brought 
us  what  none  but  he  could  have  brought ;  and  in 
looking  at  the  condition  in  which  he- found  us,  it  is 
difficult  to  conceive  how  we  could  have  held  out 
through  two  more  campaigns  without  the  aid  which 
we  derived  from  his  scientific  knowledge  and  prac 
tical  skill. 

And  what  was  his  reward  ?  An  eight  years' 
struggle  with  poverty  and  its  bitter  humiliations ;  to 
be  publicly  insulted  as  living  upon  national  bounty, 
when  a  tardy  justice  had  compelled  Congress  to 
acknowledge  his  claims  and  buy  them  off  with  an 
annuity  of  $  2500  a  year  ;  a  grave  so  little  respect 
ed,  that  a  public  road  was  run  over  it,  laying  its 
sacred  contents  bare  to  the  rains  of  heaven,  and 
the  eye,  and  even  the  hand,  of  vulgar  curiosity, 
till  individual  reverence,  performing  the  part  of 
national  gratitude,  removed  the  desecrated  bones 
to  a  surer  resting-place ;  and  a  name  in  Amer 
ican  history  overshadowed  and  almost  forgotten, 
till  a  countryman  of  his  own,*  making  himself,  as 

*  Frederick  Kapp,  now  a  member  of  the  New  York  bar,  and 
whose  important  contributions  to  American  history  have  been 
already  alluded  to  in  the  Preface. 


THE  FOREIGN  ELEMENT.  319 

Steuben  had  done,  an  American  in  heart  and  feel 
ing,  without  sacrificing  the  instincts  of  his  nativity, 
gathered  together,  with  German  industry  and  Ger 
man  zeal,  the  scattered  records  of  his  services, 
and  portrayed,  in  faithful  and  enduring  colors,  his 
achievements  in  war,  his  virtues  in  peace,  his  rare 
endowments  of  mind,  and  the  still  nobler  qualities 
of  his  heart. 


LECTURE  X. 

THE  MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

IN  speaking  of  the  martyrs  of  the  Revolution,  I 
do  not  undertake,  as  you  will  readily  conceive, 
to  speak  of  all  who,  in  that  day  of  trial,  suffered 
for  the  truth's  sake.  A  mere  catalogue  would 
convey  no  idea  of  the  peculiar  merits  of  the  sufferer 
or  the  relative  value  of  the  sacrifice.  Nor  would 
it  be  easy  to  form  such  a  catalogue  out  of  the 
imperfect  materials  that  accident,  full  as  often  as 
an  intelligent  appreciation  of  their  importance,  has 
preserved.  Thousands  die  in  battle  whom  history 
never  mentions  ;  and  in  all  great  wars  thousands 
are  exposed  to  sufferings  worse  than  death  with 
out  even  a  passing  allusion  in  the  general  record 
of  misery.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  all  that  history 
can  do  is  to  select  characteristic  names,  and  by 
a  faithful  picture  of  individuals  endeavor  to  give 
a  general  idea  of  the  classes  to  which  they  belong. 
Out  of  the  three  hundred  and  sixteen  who  served 
their  country  in  Congress  from  the  first  assumption 
of  the  powers  of  government  in  1775  to  the  inaugu 
ration  <  f  the  Federal  Constitution  in  1789,  scarce 


MARTYRS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      321 

thirty  are  known  in  the  general  history  of  the 
United  States,  scarce  six  in  the  general  history  of 
the  world.  We  had  twenty-nine  major-generals. 
How  many  of  them  find  a  place  even  in  the  school 
histories  which  we  put  into  the  hands  of  our  chil 
dren  in  order  to  familiarize  them  betimes  with  the 
characters  and  the  services  of  their  fathers  ?  It 
seems  sad  that  so  many  of  our  benefactors  should 
be  forgotten  ;  for  it  seems  like  wilfully  rejecting  the 
aid  which  society  might  derive  from  that  instinc 
tive  desire  to  be  remembered  by  posterity,  which 
nature  has  implanted  in  the  human  heart  as  one 
of  its  strongest  incentives  to  virtue.  Here  it 
is  that  history  most  needs  the  aid  of  her  sister 
arts,  —  of  sculpture,  and  painting,  and  poetry ; 
whose  appeals  to  the  imagination,  not  confined  as 
hers  are  by  the  rigorous  laws  of  evidence,  give  a 
life  to  our  conceptions  of  the  past,  which,  wisely 
cherished  and  judiciously  directed,  seldom  fails 
to  exert  an  important  influence  upon  the  fu 
ture.  A  noble  act  embalmed  in  verse,  the  form 
and  features  of  a  great  man  preserved  in  marble, 
the  characteristic  circumstances  of  a  great  event 
illustrated  by  a  skilful  pencil,  are  among  the  most 
powerful  instruments  which  God  has  intrusted  to 
our  hands  for  the  direction  of  individual  aspira 
tions,  and  the  moulding  of  national  character. 

If  this  truth  had  been  felt  in  the  United  States 
as  it  was  felt  in  the  republics  of  antiquity,  the  pub 
lic  squares  of  Boston  would  not  still  have  been 

14*  U 


322  LECTURE  X. 

without  a  statue  of  James  Otis.  A  century  ago 
no  face  was  more  familiar  in  your  streets  than  his ; 
no  voice  so  powerful  in  your  courts  of  justice,  in 
your  halls  of  legislation,  and  in  the  gathering  places 
of  the  people.  When  Englishmen  spoke  of  the 
dangerous  spirit  that  was  daily  growing  more 
dangerous  in  the  Colonies,  the  first  names  that 
came  to  their  lips  were  the  names  of  Otis  and 
Franklin.  When  the  leaders  of  sister  Colonies 
wished  to  strengthen  their  own  hands  by  the 
authority  of  Massachusetts,  they  appealed  to  the 
opinion  of  Otis  as  the  most  faithful  expression  of 
the  opinion  of  his  people. 

Fe\v  men  have  possessed  in  a  more  eminent  de 
gree  the  qualities  required  for  the  successful  guid 
ance  of  the  earlier  periods  of  a  struggle  like  that  of 
our  Revolution.  He  was  a  sound  lawyer ;  deeply 
and  extensively  read ;  and  all  the  first  questions  of 
our  controversy  were  questions  of  constitutional 
law.  He  had  read  and  thought  much  upon  the 
science  of  government,  and  brought  a  thorough 
acquaintance  with  fundamental  principles  to  the 
discussion  of  practical  questions.  He  was  a  close 
reasoner,  a  vigorous  debater,  and  in  the  appeals 
and  apostrophes  of  oratory,  full  of  an  impetuous 
eloquence  that  bore  down  opposition.  The  enthu 
siasm  that  he  excited  was  not  a  transient  feeling, 
dying  away  with  the  sound  of  his  voice,  but  a  pro 
found  agitation  of  the  whole  nature,  penetrating 
the  heart,  subduing  the  reason,  and  leaving  every- 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      323 

where  deep  traces  of  its  passage  when  the  headlong 
torrent  had  rolled  away.  He  had  prepared  him 
self  for  his  professional  career  by  adding  to  the 
severe  discipline  of  legal  study  the  elegant  disci 
pline  of  polite  literature  ;  studying  his  Greek  and 
Latin  classics  as  he  studied  his  English  classics,  and 
making  himself  as  familiar  with  Homer  and  Virgil 
as  with  Milton  and  Shakespeare.  If  Milton  sus 
pended  the  flow  of  Paradise  Lost  in  order  to  dictate 
his  "  Accidence  made  Grammar,"  may  we  not  re 
gard  it  as  a  proof  of  the  vigor  of  Otis's  mind  that 
in  the  midst  of  the  absorbing  duties  of  his  profession 
he  found  leisure  to  compile  treatises  on  Greek  and 
Latin  prosody?  High-minded,  impetuous,  iras 
cible  ;  with  his  political  opponents  haughty  and 
overbearing,  he  was  generous,  sincere,  placable, 
incapable  of  artifice  or  deceit ;  not  a  pure  intel 
lect,  moving  only  in  the  light  of  reason  and  warm 
ing  only  in  the  pursuit  of  abstract  truths,  but  a 
fervid  mind,  glowing  with  the  sympathetic  warmth 
of  a  kindred  heart. 

His  labors  belong  to  the  first  phase  of  the  contest, 
and  filling  eight  years  of  his  active  life,  give  him, 
in  America,  the  place  of  defender  of  the  constitu 
tional  rights  of  the  Colonies  against  the  encroach 
ments  of  the  Ministry  and  Parliament.  He  was  the 
first  to  assert  that  taxation  without  representation 
was  tyranny ;  *  but  his  defence  was  strictly  constitu- 

*  The  expression  had  been  used  long  before ;  Otis  was  the  first 
to  revive  and  apply  it. 


324  LECTURE  X. 

tional  and  fervently  loyal;  and  although  he  may 
have  foreseen  that  independence,  in  certain  contin 
gencies,  must  be  the  logical  consequence  of  his  doc 
trines,  he  could  not  foresee  that  contingencies  so 
easily  avoided  would  so  speedily  occur.  His  speech 
in  1761,  against  Writs  of  Assistance,  marks  an 
epoch  in  Colonial  history ;  for  it  was  the  beginning 
of  a  form  of  legal  resistance  equally  adapted  to  the 
nature  of  the  dispute  and  the  character  of  the  peo 
ple  who  were  to  sustain  it.  From  that  moment  he 
became  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  opposition  : 
looked  up  to  by  his  fellow-citizens  as  the  champion 
of  their  rights ;  looked  down  upon  by  the  Ministry 
as  factious,  turbulent,  and  unmanageable.  From 
that  moment,  too,  he  devoted  himself  to  public 
life,  gradually  withdrawing  from  his  profession  and 
concentrating  his  energies  upon  the  question  which, 
in  his  mind,  had  already  assumed  the  proportions 
of  a  contest  for  freedom.  And  here,  also,  began 
those  voluntary  sacrifices,  that  persistent  self-de 
nial,  which,  for  a  temperament  like  his,  were  the 
first  pangs  of  martyrdom.  He  resigned  the  office 
of  Advocate-General,  and  with  it,  not  merely  its 
pecuniary  rewards,  but  a  professional  distinction 
which  he  valued  more  than  money.  He  placed 
himself  in  open  opposition  to  some  of  his  dearest 
friends,  and  voluntarily  renounced  many  of  the 
associations  which  were  most  necessary  to  his  so 
cial  nature.  He  made  bitter  enemies  at  home  and 
abroad,  and  drew  upon  himself  the  calumnies  and 


MARTYRS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       325 

insults  most  galling  to  his  generous  and  indepen 
dent  feelings.  He  renounced  all  amusements,  giv 
ing  himself  nip  to  his  public  duties  with  an  exclu 
sive  attention,  which  to  one  who  loved  society  and 
needed  recreation  as  he  did,  must  have  required  a 
constant  exertion  of  self-denial  in  one  of  its  rarest 
forms.  But  the  sacrifice  which  was  not  too  great 
for  his  will  proved  too  great  for  his  strength.  His 
health  failed,  his  overtasked  mind  became  unequal 
to  the  incessant  calls  for  exertion.  At  this  critical 
moment  he  was  assaulted  by  a  political  enemy, 
overpowered  by  numbers,  and  wounded  in  the 
head, — the  first,  though  unfortunately  not  the  last 
attempt  in  our  annals  to  silence  the  eloquent  voice 
by  the  violent  hand.  And  now  his  vehement 
passions  often  got  the  control  over  him  in  public 
and  private.  Men  wondered  at  his  bursts  of 
indignation,  and  after  excusing  them  for  a  while 
as  the  eccentricities  of  a  fervid  nature,  began  to 
suspect  and  fear,  then  whisper,  and  at  last  say 
openly  that  James  Otis  was  mad.  Was  not  the 
darkness  that  settled  upon  that  powerful  intellect, 
relieved  only  at  intervals  by  a  softening  twilight, 
an  imperfect  gleam  of  its  original  brightness,  a 
martyrdom  as  full  of  honor,  as  deserving  of  eternal 
and  grateful  remembrance  as  if  he  had  laid  down 
his  life  upon  the  battle-field  or  poured  forth  his 
blood  on  the  scaffold  ? 

When  Jame^  Otis  was  pleading  the  cause  of  the 
Colonies  in  the  Sugar  Act  case  and  the  kindred 


326  LECTURE  X. 

case  of  Writs  of  Assistance,  Josiah  Quincy,  a  youth 
of  seventeen,  was  diligently  pursuing  the  studies 
of  his  class  at  Harvard.  He  also  brought  from  col 
lege  a  taste  for  letters,  a  deep  and  lasting  love  for 
the  great  poets  and  great  orators  of  antiquity,  but 
enlarged  by  a  wider  range  of  modern  literature, 
and  refined  by  a  gentler  spirit.  When  he  first 
entered  upon  the  practice  of  his  profession,  the 
struggle  had  reached  a  crisis  of  peculiar  danger; 
the  Stamp  Act  had  been  repealed,  but  the  latent 
threat  contained  in  the  declaratory  clause  was  al 
ready  beginning  to  work  out  its  inevitable  conse 
quences.  Young  Quincy  loved  his  profession,  and 
in  tranquil  times  would  have  devoted  himself  to 
it  with  undivided  enthusiasm.  But  he  loved  his 
country ;  he  saw  the  danger  which  at  that  moment 
menaced  her,  more,  perhaps,  than  ever  before,  and, 
with  a  clear  perception  of  the  personal  sacrifice  and 
personal  peril,  took  his  stand,  from  the  beginning, 
at  the  side  of  her  acknowledged  champions.  And 
soon  he  was  in  the  first  rank,  hand  in  hand  with 
Warren  and  the  two  Adamses ;  respected  for  his 
calm  intrepidity,  admired  for  the  fluent  eloquence 
of  his  pen,  and  trusted  for  the  soundness  of  his 
judgment.  The  enthusiasm  of  high  principles  per 
vaded  his  whole  nature,  imparting  dignity  to  his 
thoughts  and  an  earnest  gravity  to  his  language. 
Will  the  Colonies  unite  ?  Will  they  persevere  ? 
were  the  urgent  questions  of  this  moment;  and 
his  pen  poured  out  earnest  exhortations  to  firm, 


MARTYRS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      327 

united,  and  energetic  resistance.  As  the  difficulties 
increased  and  the  danger  grew  more  imminent,  his 
spirit  rose  higher  and  his  convictions  became  more 
intense.  But  there  was  a  still  harder  trial  in  store 
for  him,  —  a  trial  of  moral  courage  under  circum 
stances  of  singular  difficulty.  The  whole  community 
was  excited  as  Boston  had  never  been  excited  be 
fore.  The  first  blood  had  been  shed  in  her  streets, 
and  they  at  whose  command  it  was  shed  were  to  be 
put  on  trial  for  the  deed.  Blood  for  blood,  life  for 
life,  was  the  stern  cry  of  the  people ;  and  who 
should  gainsay  it  ?  Who  would  dare  to  raise  his 
voice  in  defence  of  murder,  and  prove  his  secret 
alliance  with  tyranny  by  open  sympathy  with  its 
minions  ? 

Then  it  was  that  Josiah  Quincy,  but  a  little 
turned  of  twenty-six,  one  of  the  youngest  members 
of  the  bar,  filled  with  a  holy  sense  of  the  obliga 
tions  of  his  professional  oath,  joined  his  eloquent 
voice  to  the  maturer  eloquence  of  John  Adams, 
and,  saving  the  lives  of  those  whom  the  law  held 
innocent,  saved  his  native  city  from  the  deep  and 
enduring  stain  of  judicial  revenge.  As  we  look 
back  upon  this  act  in  the  light  of  history,  we  can 
easily  conceive  that,  of  all  the  consoling  reflections 
which  sustained  his  spirit  in  the  hour  of  death, 
there  was  none  more  consoling,  more  sustaining, 
than  the  remembrance  of  this  deed  of  justice  and 
mercy.  But  to  his  immediate  contemporaries,  and 
before  their  passions  had  cooled,  it  seemed  like 


328  LECTURE  X. 

a  wanton  degradation  of  superior  talents,  a  base 
abandonment  of  the  cause  of  freedom.  Seldom 
has  the  moral  courage  of  a  young  man  been  so 
tried ;  never  has  it  come  out  of  the  trial  more 
resplendent,  more  worthy  of  the  admiration  of 
every  true  and  honorable  nature. 

As  the  contest  continued  it  was  readily  seen  that 
he  had  not  changed  his  opinion  of  the  rights  of  the 
Colonists.  Upon  every  important  question  his  pen 
was  one  of  those  to  which  the  friends  of  America 
looked  with  most  confidence  and  her  enemies  with 
most  dread.  He  had  arguments  for  the  under 
standing  and  fervid  eloquence  for  the  passions, 
and,  above  all,  unfaltering  faith  and  untiring  zeal. 
But  neither  faith  nor  zeal  could  supply  the  place 
of  that  physical  vigor  which  nature  —  so  bountiful 
in  other  things  —  had  denied  him.  His  friends  saw 
with  deep  anxiety  the  decaying  strength,  the  sunk 
en  cheek,  the  hectic  flush,  and  all  the  well-known 
symptoms  of  the  most  insidious  and  inexorable  of 
diseases.  A  journey  to  the  South  afforded  apparent 
relief,  reviving  his  own  hopes  with  the  hopes  of  his 
friends.  Again  he  gave  himself  up  to  his  profession 
and  his  public  duties.  It  was  in  1774.  The  first 
Colonial  Congress  was  about  to  meet,  and  all  felt 
that  the  hopes  of  a  successful  resistance  depended 
in  a  great  measure  upon  the  wisdom  and  temper 
of  its  resolves.  It  was  seen,  also,  by  leading  minds, 
that  the  time  had  arrived  when  it  was  neces 
sary  to  come  to  a  clear  understanding  with  their 


MARTYRS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      329 

friends  in  England.  The  sword,  although  loose  in 
the  scabbard,  had  not  yet  been  drawn.  If  the  min 
istry  could  be  brought  to  renounce  their  insane 
projects,  the  Colonies  would  still  gladly  hold  on  to 
the  connection  which,  in  spite  of  all  that  had  oc 
curred,  was  still  endeared  to  all  by  habit,  tradition, 
association,  common  laws,  and  a  common  language. 
To  convey  to  their  English  friends  an  accurate 
statement  of  their  own  feelings  and  aims,  and 
to  obtain  an  accurate  statement  of  theirs,  had  be 
come  an  object  of  the  last  importance,  but  an  object 
which  could  not  be  accomplished  by  writing,  or  any 
of  the  usual  methods  of  communication.  In  this 
emergency  it  was  resolved  to  send  one  of  their  own 
number  to  England,  —  a  man  familiar  with  the 
whole  subject,  with  the  limits  of  public  opinion 
and  the  extent  of  individual  opinion,  knowing  what 
all  wished,  and  equally  well  apprised  of  what  some 
foresaw. 

For  this  delicate  office,  requiring  so  rare  a  combi 
nation  of  intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  —  intel 
lectual,  because  the  first  minds  and  deepest  learn 
ing  of  England  were  to  be  met ;  moral,  because  all 
the  allurements  of  refined  corruption  were  to  be 
encountered,  —  Josiah  Quincy  was  chosen.  On 
the  25th  of  September  he  embarked  at  Salem, 
privately, — for  it  was  not  deemed  advisable  to 
give  the  partisans  of  England  time  to  put  the  gov 
ernment  on  its  guard ;  and  on  the  8th  of  November 
he  landed  at  Falmouth.  Men  could  hardly  believe 


330  LECTURE  X. 

their  own  eyes  when  they  saw  him  in  the  streets 
of  London.  He  will  surely  be  arrested,  said 
some.  He  will  surely  be  bought  over,  said  others. 
Franklin,  and  all  who  thought  as  Franklin  did, 
and  there  was  one  bishop  aifd  more  than  one  lord 
who  thought  with  him,  received  Quincy  with  open 
arms,  and  listened  eagerly  and  thoughtfully  to  his 
story  of  English  wrongs  and  American  resentment. 
Ministers,  too,  were  anxious  to  see  him.  Lord 
North  caused  him  to  be  sought  out,  for  the  clear 
sighted,  high-minded  man  would  make  no  overtures. 
If  a  thorough  knowledge  of  what  America  intended, 
a  full,  accurate,  and  straightforward  account  of  the 
state  of  American  opinion  could  have  induced  the 
ministry  to  draw  back  their  hands,  every  obnoxious 
act  would  have  been  repealed,  every  soldier  re 
called.  But  behind  the  ministry  was  the  King,  — 
self-willed,  obstinate,  irritated ;.  and  though  every 
word  that  Quincy  said  to  North  was  repeated  to 
the  King,  resentment,  not  conviction,  was  the  only 
feeling  it  awakened.  It  was  evident  that  govern 
ment  would  not  recede. 

Saddened,  but  not  disheartened,  he  continued 
his  labors,  seeking  everywhere  the  friends  of 
America  and  striving  to  confirm  them  in  their 
kind  feelings ;  meeting  her  enemies  boldly,  and 
using  argument  and  eloquence  to  convince  them 
of  their  error.  In  the  midst  of  these  labors  his  dis 
ease  returned  upon  him  more  severe  and  menacing 
than  ever.  Skilful  attendance  and  comparative  re- 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      331 

pose  gave  temporary  relief,  and  his  physician  held 
out  the  promise  of  recovery  if  he  would  only  break 
off  from  his  work  and  give  himself  up  with  undi 
vided  attention  to  the  care  of  his  health. 

Meanwhile  the  storm  was  gathering.  Before  it 
broke,  the  friends  of  the  Colonies,  unable  to  avert 
it,  were  anxious  to  send  a  final  warning  to  their 
American  brethren,  —  a  warning  which  they  dared 
not  trust  to  paper.  Quincy  saw  clearly  that  to 
carry  it  was  going  to  certain  death.  Repose, 
the  waters  of  Bath,  might  give  him  health ;  and 
did  he  not  owe  something  to  his  family  and  friends, 
to  an  aged  father,  of  whom  he  was  the  chief  hope, 
to  a  devoted  wife,  and  children  scarcely  emerged 
from  infancy,  of  whom  he  was  the  only  stay  ?  Had 
he  not  already  sacrificed  much  while  others  were 
calmly  looking  on  ?  Was  it  really  the  call  of 
duty,  where  the  hazard  was  so  great,  the  reasons 
so  nearly  balanced,  the  excuse  so  evident  and  so 
plausible  ? 

All  this  he  felt  and  saw,  and  calmly  and  reso 
lutely  accepted  the  fatal  mission.  It  was  not  like 
mounting  a  breach,  for  there  the  hot  blood  nerves 
the  failing  limbs,  and  borne  on  by  the  shouts  and 
tumult,  and  fiery  whirlwind  of  battle,  men  do 
things  which  at  other  times  they  would  shrink  from 
with  horror.  But  it  was  placing  himself  calmly 
and  deliberately  in  death's  chosen  path,  and  watch 
ing  with  unshrinking  eye  his  swift  and  sure  ad 
vance.  The  ship  that  he  sailed  in  was  ill  provided 


332  LECTURE  X. 

for  the  accommodation  of  a  sick  man  ;  the  weather 
was  u  inclement  and  damp  "  ;  there  was  no  friend 
to  cheer  him  with  kind  words  or  minister  to  hia 
wants.  A  common  sailor  sat  by  his  pillow  and 
took  down,  in  a  rude  hand,  his  last  thoughts  and 
wishes :  his  country  still  first  and  foremost  among 
them ;  and  thus,  after  six  weeks  of  solitary  suffer 
ing,  and  just  within  sight  of  the  land  where  wife 
and  children  and  friends  were  anxiously  awaiting 
his  coming,  he  died.  What  sacrifice  more  com 
plete,  what  martyrdom  more  holy  ? 

Congress  had  its  martyrs,  too,  if  it  be  martyrdom 
to  die  at  the  post  of  duty  for  conscience'  sake.  The 
small-pox  made  the  duty  of  delegate  a  perilous  one 
in  1775;  and  among  its  victims  was  one  whom  the 
cause  of  American  freedom  could  ill  spare  at  that 
critical  period  of  our  fortunes.  Samuel  Ward  had 
been  Governor  of  Rhode  Island,  and  when  the  first 
Continental  Congress  was  chosen,  became,  with 
Stephen  Hopkins,  her  representative.  Re-elected 
to  the  Congress  of  1775,  he  was  soon  distinguished 
for  his  sound  judgment  and  practical  familiarity 
with  the  management  of  legislative  assemblies. 
Rhode  Island  was  hardly  large  enough  to  give  a 
President  to  the  Congress,  but  in  committee  of  the 
whole,  Ward  was  regularly  called  to  the  chair. 
Few  men  were  more  assiduous  in  the  performance 
of  their  duty ;  few  were  listened  to  with  more 
respect  ;  few  possessed  in  a  higher  degree  the 
confidence  of  their  associates.  He  was  among  the 


MARTYRS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       333 

zealous  advocates  of  union,  although  the  chief  of 
his  life  had  been  passed  in  the  political  contests  of 
a  small  State.  He  was  among  the  early  friends 
of  Independence,  foreseeing  it  long  before  it  could 
be  spoken  of  in  debate,  and  looking  hopefully  to  it 
as  the  natural  and  inevitable  consequence  of  what 
had  already  been  done.  And  when  his  heart  was 
warmest  in  the  cause  and  his  hopes  highest,  he, 
too,  died,  a  victim  of  the  small-pox  in  its  most 
malignant  form ;  but  still  more  a  victim  of  that 
noble  sense  of  duty  which  taught  him  that  for  the 
civilian,  as  for  the  soldier,  the  post  of  honor  is  often 
the  post  of  death.  He  died,  too,  before  enough 
had  been  done  to  insure  him  a  permanent  place  in 
history;  too  soon  even  to  allow  him  to  give  his 
voice  and  affix  his  name  to  that  Declaration  of 
Independence  for  which  he  had  labored  so  ear 
nestly.  And  Rhode  Island,  like  too  many  of  her 
sister  States,  forgetful  of  the  children  who  served 
her,  when  to  serve  her  was  to  put  life  and  fortune 
in  jeopardy,  permitted  his  bones  to  lie  for  nearly  a 
century  in  a  borrowed  grave,  and  when  at  last, 
forced  from  their  resting-place  by  the  encroach 
ments  of  an  expanding  population,  they  returned 
to  her  bosom,  to  return  to  it  unheralded,  and 
silently  mingle  with  their  native  soil  in  the  obscu 
rity  of  a  common  burving-ground. 

Domestic  life,  too,  had  its  martyrs,  —  men  and 
women,  who,  laboring  earnestly  in  obscure  fields, 
sacrificing  much,  suffering  much,  drew  upon  them- 


334  LECTURE  X. 

selves  the  vengeance  of  their  country's  enemies, 
arid  sealed  their  devotion  with  their  blood.  Of 
two  of  these,  the  love  and  veneration  of  their  con 
temporaries,  piously  transmitted  to  posterity,  has 
preserved  the  memory  with  peculiar  freshness  : 
James  Caldwell,  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Elizabethtown,  New  Jersey,  was  distin 
guished  from  the  beginning  of  the  war  as  an  ardent 
Whig ;  and  Hannah  Ogden,  his  wife,  entering 
warmly  into  all  his  feelings,  shared  with  him  the 
hardships  and  dangers  of  his  position.  His  vehe 
ment  eloquence  was  directed  against  the  enemies 
of  his  country  so  boldly,  and  acted  so  powerfully 
upon  his  hearers,  that  he  was  soon  marked  out  as  a 
man  to  be  peculiarly  dreaded,  and  a  price  set  upon 
his  head.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  what  the  influence 
of  such  a  man  must  have  been :  not  only  eloquent 
in  the  pulpit,  but  living  in  daily  intercourse  with 
the  soldiers  and  ministering  intelligently  to  their 
wants.  It  is  easy  to  conceive,  too,  what  a  life  of 
peril  and  excitement  the  life  of  this  noble  couple 
must  have  been  in  a  State  which  was  so  often  the 
seat  of  war,  and  with  the  enemy  always  so  near 
their  door.  More  than  once  he  was  compelled  to 
take  his  pistols  with  him  into  the  pulpit,  and  lay 
them  down  by  the  side  of  his  Bible.  It  was  no 
false  alarm :  though  the  fatal  blow  first  fell  where 
least  expected.  In  the  summer  of  1780  there  was 
constant  marching  to  and  fro  in  the  Jerseys,  and 
many  things  to  indicate  an  intention  to  make  them 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       335 

the  scene  of  active  operations.  For  greater  secu 
rity,  Mr.  Caklvvell  removed  his  family  to  Connect 
icut  Farms,  a  small  village  on  the  site  of  the 
modern  village  of  Union.  On  the  morning  of 
the  6th  of  June,  tidings  came  that  the  enemy  were 
in  motion.  Their  way  led  directly  through  the 
village,  and  the  inhabitants,  seizing  whatever  they 
could  most  readily  take  with  them,  hurried  off  to 
places  of  greater  security,  leaving  their  houses  and 
the  greater  part  of  their  property  to  the  mercy  of 
the  invader.  Mrs.  Caldwell  remained.  Her  hus 
band  was  with  his  regiment  at  Springfield.  Nine 
young  children  were  a  heavy  burden  in  sudden 
flight.  Surely  her  sex,  their  helpless  age,  would 
protect  them.  As  the  British  advanced  she  went 
into  a  back  room,  and,  seating  herself  upon  the 
bed,  with  her  infant  in  her  arms,  silently  engaged 
in  prayer.  The  nursery-maid,  who  had  followed 
her  into  the  room,  with  the  other  children,  stood 
near  her,  looking  towards  the  window,  and  listen 
ing  to  the  sounds  so  full  of  menace  and  terror  which 
now  filled  the  street  of  the  devoted  village.  Sud 
denly  she  saw  a  soldier  jump  over  the  fence  and 
come  up  to  the  window :  and  as  she  was  still  tell 
ing  her  mistress,  he  levelled  his  musket,  took  de 
liberate  aim,  and  fired.  His  musket  was  loaded 
with  two  balls.  Both  passed  through  the  body  of 
the  mother,  and  she  dropped  dead  in  the  midst  of 
her  children.  The  next  day,  when  her  husband 
came,  under  the  protection  of  a  flag,  to  look  for 


33 G  LECTURE  X. 

« 

her,  he  found  the  village  a  smouldering  heap  of 
ruins,  and  his  new-made  orphans  weeping  over 
the  lifeless  body  of  their  parent.  Before  two 
years  had  filled  their  course,  he  too  was  laid,  a 
murdered  man,  by  her  side.  Their  bodies  lie  in 
the  burying-ground  of  the  Broad  Street  Church 
of  Elizabethtown,  —  a  modern  church,  but  built 
upon  the  site  of  the  one  under  whose  roof  they 
had  so  often  worshipped  their  God  together.  A 
marble  obelisk  on  a  granite  base  marks  the  spot ; 
decked  with  a  simple  inscription,  placed  there  by 
the  descendants  of  those  who,  knowing  and  honor 
ing  them  in  their  lives,  bequeathed  their  mem 
ories  as  a  precious  legacy  to  the  grateful  rever 
ence  of  posterity. 

The  Jerseys  were  the  scene  of  many  tragedies, 
even  deeper  than  this.  The  passage  of  the  Brit 
ish  army  in  the  autumn  of  1776  was  attended  by 
circumstances  of  demoniac  cruelty.  All  that  wan 
ton  barbarity  and  unbridled  passions  could  do  was 
done  ;  and  when  the  whirlwind  had  passed,  the 
survivor  in  many  a  domestic  circle,  happy  and 
peaceful  till  then,  looked  with  longing  eyes  upon 
those  who  had  fallen  in  the  first  outbreak  of  vio 
lence,  and  envied  them  the  calm  sleep  of  their 
graves. 

Tims  far  I  have  spoken  only  of  our  civil  martyrs, 
—  of  those  who,  facing  danger  in  a  very  different 
form  from  that  wherein  it  presents  itself  on  the 
battle-field,  faced  it  with  a  firm  and  sober  fortitude 


MARTYRS  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.      337 

which  on  the  battle-field  would  have  won  them 
the  name  of  heroes.  And  heroes  they  were,  of 
the  best  and  rarest  kind,  —  the  heroes  of  con 
science,  of  high  principle,  of  earnest  conviction,  — 
men  who  serve  the  cause  of  virtue  by  filling  the 
minds  of  those  who  contemplate  their  characters 
with  a  noble  desire  to  live  as  they  lived  for  the 
sake  of  mankind,  even  at  the  peril  of  dying  as  they 
died,  with  nothing  but  their  faith  in  the  ultimate 
triumph  of  truth  to  assure  them  that  they  had  not 
lived  in  vain.  If  legislation  were  always  wise,  it 
would  charge  itself  with  the  preservation  of  these 
men's  memories  as  with  one  of  its  highest  duties. 
It  would  fill  public  places  with  their  busts  and 
statues;  it  would  seek  occasion  for  bringing  their 
names  forward,  and  strengthening  itself  for  good 
by  showing  what  rewards  true  greatness  brings. 
It  would  employ  all  its  means,  and  take  advantage 
of  every  fitting  occasion,  to  dwell  upon  their  vir 
tues,  that,  by  familiarizing  the  minds  of  the  people 
with  them  as  children,  it  might  teach  them  to  imi 
tate  them  and  emulate  them  as  men. 

In  the  next  class,  the  first  name  that  presents 
itself  to  every  mind  is  that  of  Joseph  Warren.  It 
is  too  well  known  to  require  illustration  or  to  jus 
tify  me  in  dwelling  upon  it.  It  awakens  the  mem 
ory  of  a  grief  so  deep  and  so  universal  that  we  feel 
as  if  we  could  almost  weep  for  him  as  our  fathers 
wept  for  him  eighty-six  years  ago  ;  and  it  comes  to 
us  with  such  a  familiar  sound,  with  such  lively  asso- 

15  v 


338  LECTURE  X. 

ciations  of  pure  motives,  high  aims,  warm  affections, 
and  refined  tastes,  that  while  we  think  of  him  as  of 
one  who  died  for  his  country,  we  feel  towards  him 
as  towards  a  friend  who  still  shares  with  us  our 
moments  of  highest  aspiration  and  noblest  resolve. 
It  is  impossible  to  say  what  Warren  might  have 
done  for  us  had  his  life  been  spared.  But  it  is 
easy  to  see  that  few  lives  have  been  so  fruitful  of 
good  as  his  heroic  death.  It  was  the  baptism  of 
blood,  —  the  consecration  of  a  holy  cause.  Wher 
ever  the  story  was  told  it  awakened  mingled  sen 
sations  of  reverence  and  love  and  indignation. 
Bunker  Hill  became  a  distinct  and  definite  object 
in  men's  minds,  —  not  only  for  the  fair  town  that 
lay  smouldering  at  its  foot,  not  only  for  the  dead 
that  were  strewn  like  the  new-mown  hay  upon  its 
slopes,  but  more  than  all  these  for  him,  —  for  him 
that  had  fallen  there  in  the  pride  and  hope  and 
vigor  of  manhood,  with  the  name  of  country  on 
his  lips. 

The  name  of  Nathan  Hale  is  less  known.  He 
was  too  young  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  discus 
sions  which  had  given  Warren  celebrity  before 
the  sword  was  actually  drawn,  and  held  too  sub 
ordinate  a  position  when  he  entered  the  army  to 
attract  the  attention  which  he  deserved.  Like 
Quincy,  he  was  fresh  from  college,  loved  his 
books,  and  looked  upon  literature  as  the  source 
from  which  his  purest  pleasures  were  to  flow.  To 
a  naturally  refined  and  delicate  mind  he  had  added 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      339 

the  refinement  of  diligent  cultivation.  Nature  had 
given  him  lively  sensibilities  and  a  warm  heart, 
and  he  had  done  all  that  he  could  do,  by  the  aid 
of  poetry  and  philosophy,  to  make  them  subsorvi- 
ent  to  the  duties  of  life  as  well  as  to  its  pleasures. 
His  ambition  for  distinction  was  controlled  by  a 
profound  sense  of  duty,  which  led  him  to  feel  that 
no  distinction  could  satisfy  the  aspirations  of  his 
mind  which  did  not  satisfy  the  dictates  of  his  con 
science.  "I  wish  to  be  useful,"  were  his  words 
to  a  friend  who  was  endeavoring  to  dissuade  him 
from  undertaking  what  the  world  called  a  dis 
honorable  thing,  although  Washington  had  said 
that  it  was  indispensable  to  the  safety  of  the  army, 
—  "I  wish  to  be  useful,  and  every  kind  of  service 
necessary  to  the  public  good  becomes  honorable  by 
being  necessary." 

With  such  sentiments  we  should  naturally  look 
for  him  where  we  actually  find  him,  —  at  the 
camp  before  Boston,  studying  his  new  profession 
with  the  same  zeal  with  which  he  had  studied  his 
classics,  and  trying  to  prepare  his  men,  as  he  was 
preparing  himself,  for  the  full  and  satisfactory  per 
formance  of  their  parts.  Discipline  was  one  of 
the  first  wants  of  the  army,  and  he  tried  to  make 
his  company  distinguished  by  the  excellence  of 
their  discipline.  A  simple  and  uniform  method  of 
clothing  the  army  was  greatly  needed  ;  and  turning 
his  thoughts  to  the  subject,  he  invented  a  uniform 
for  his  own  men,  simple,  convenient,  and  com- 


340  LECTURE  X. 

fortable.  Everywhere  within  his  sphere  his  duty 
was  performed  in  that  thorough  and  satisfactory 
manner  which  inspires  conh'dence  and  commands 
respect.  But  no  opportunity  for  distinguished  ser 
vice  offered  itself:  he  was  with  the  regiment  that 
Washington  took  over  to  Brooklyn  during  the 
battle  of  Long  Island,  but  not  in  the  battle  itself. 
And  when  he  looked  back  upon  the  year  that  he 
had  passed  in  the  army,  he  felt  that  he  had  as  yet 
done  nothing  for  his  country.  When,  therefore, 
Colonel  Knowlton,  calling  the  officers  of  his  regi 
ment  together,  told  them  that  General  Washing- 

O  7  O 

ton  wanted  an  intelligent  and  trusty  man  to  enter 
the  enemy's  lines,  and  ascertain  their  position, 
numbers,  and  designs,  he  saw  that  the  time  which 
he  had  looked  forward  to  was  come,  for  that  there 
was  a  work  to  do  which  even  brave  men  might 
shrink  from  without  incurring  the  suspicion  of 
cowardice.  The  moment  that  the  meeting  of 
officers  broke  up  he  went  directly  to  th«  tent 
of  his  friend  and  classmate,  Captain  Hull,  and  told 
him  what  was  wanted  and  what  he  intended  to  do. 
"  You  are  not  fit  for  it,"  said  Hull ;  "  you  are  too 
frank  and  open  for  disguise.  This  is  the  work  of 
a  spy,  —  a  man  whom  men  use  because  they  need 
him,  but  whom  they  put  to  death  with  ignominy 
if  they  detect  him."  It  was  then  that  Hale  uttered 
that  remarkable  profession  of  faith  which  I  have 
already  quoted  :  —  "  Every  kind  of  service  neces 
sary  to  the  public  good  becomes  honorable  by  be- 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      341 

ing  necessary.  If  the  exigencies  of  my  country 
demand  a  peculiar  service,  its  claims  to  perform 
that  service  are  imperious."  And  then,  after  lis 
tening  to  his  friend's  remonstrances  and  entreaties, 
he  paused,  took  his  hand  affectionately,  and,  saying, 
"  I  will  reflect,  and  do  nothing  which  I  do  not  feel 
to  be  my  duty,"  went  his  way.  Hull  soon  missed 
him  from  camp,  and  his  heart  told  him  too  surely 
whither  he  was  gone,  and  what  the  inevitable  fate 
of  one  so  open  and  artless  would  be. 

A  few  days  later  an  English  officer  came  to  the 
American  camp  with  a  flag  and  told  Hamilton  that 
Captain  Hale  had  been  arrested  the  day  before 
and  hanged  that  morning  as  a  spy.  Hull  sought 
the  officer  at  once  and  learnt  from  his  lips  the  short 
and  melancholy  story  of  his  friend. 

Hale  had  performed  his  task,  examined  the  Brit 
ish  works,  made  sketches,  collected  information, 
and,  with  his  papers  concealed  upon  his  person, 
was  upon  the  point  of  stepping  into  a  boat  to  make 
his  way  back  to  the  army,  when  he  was  seized  and 
carried  before  General  Howe.  Further  conceal 
ment  was  impossible  ;  and  when  we  remember  his 
character  we  can  easily  conceive  that  it  was  with 
a  feeling  of  relief  from  odious  constraint  that  he 

O 

boldly  raised  his  head  and  avowed  his  rank  and 
purpose.  In  so  clear  a  case  no  trial  was  deemed 
necessary.  He  was  condemned  to  die.  For  con 
venience'  sake,  not  mercy's,  a  single  night  was 
given  him,  for  it  was  now  evening,  and  Howe's 


342  LECTURE  X. 

quarters  at  a  distance  from  the  city.  He  passed 
that  night  in  the  green-house  of  the  Beekinan 
mansion,  which  ten  years  ago  was  still  standing 
with  all  its  associations  of  colonial  New  York.  He 
asked  to  see  a  clergyman,  but  was  denied,  —  for  a 
Bible,  but  it  was  refused  him.  Next  morning  he 
was  led  out  to  death.  Did  he  falter?  did  he  shrink? 
Would  he  have  wished  that  fatal  step  untaken  ? 
Cunningham,  the  Provost  Marshal,  would  have  glad 
ly  had  us  think  so.  But  near  Rutgers's  orchard  — 
one  of  whose  apple-trees  was  to  supply  a  gallows  — 
an  English  officer  had  pitched  his  marquee,  and 
when  he  saw  the  preparations,  he  asked  Cunning 
ham  to  allow  his  victim  to  come  and  sit  in  it  till 
all  was  ready.  "  He  was  calm,"  said  this  unim 
peachable  witness,  "  and  bore  himself  with  gentle 
dignity  in  the  consciousness  of  rectitude  and  high 
intentions.  He  asked  for  writing  materials,  which 
I  furnished  him,  and  wrote  two  letters,  one  to  his 
mother  and  one  to  a  brother  officer."  Shortly  af 
ter,  he  was  summoned  to  the  gallows.  All  that  he 
could  add  to  the  bitterness  of  death,  Cunningham 
added ;  and  when  he  heard  the  last  words  of  his 
victim  —  "I  only  regret  that  I  have  but  one  life  to 
lose  for  my  country" — he  resolved  in  his  heart 
that  the  rebels  should  never  know  that  they  had  a 
man  in  their  army  who  could  die  with  so  much 
firmness,  and  destroying  his  letters,  destroyed,  as 
he  fondly  supposed,  the  last  and  only  record  of  his 
dying  sentiments.  But  Providence  had  not  willed 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      343 

it  so ;  and  in  this  hour  of  desolation  raised  him  up 
a  friendly  witness  even  from  among  his  enemies ; 
for  it  so  chanced  that  the  officer  who  had  supplied 
him  with  pen  and  paper,  -was  sent  with  a  flag  into 
the  American  camp  on  the  afternoon  of  that  very 
day,  and  from  his  lips,  not  from  uncertain  rumors 
or  doubtful  reports,  Hull  received  the  unques 
tionable  testimony. 

A  parallel  has  often  been  drawn  between  Hale 
and  Andre*.  But  it  is  doing  injustice  to  the  self- 
denying  American,  who  for  conscience'  sake  under 
took  a  task  which,  even  if  fully  successful,  could 
bring  no  reward  but  the  sense  of  duty  performed, 
with  the  aspiring  Englishman,  who  for  ambition's 
sake  undertook  a  task  which  promised  increase  of 
rank  and  the  chance  of  military  distinction.  Hale 
put  on  a  disguise  for  a  few  hours  under  the  impulse 
of  a  strong  and  generous  motive.  Andre*  carried 
on  a  treacherous  correspondence  for  months,  avail 
ing  himself  artfully  of  every  means  to  render  it 
effective.  Had  Hale  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
American  camp,  he  would  have  made  his  report  to 
his  immediate  commander  and  returned  silently 
to  the  performance  of  his  subordinate  functions. 
Had  Andre  succeeded  in  reaching  New  York,  his 
achievements  would  have  been  hailed  by  the  Com 
mander-in-chief  as  a  brilliant  display  of  energy, 
and  his  name  transmitted  to  the  ministry  for 
acknowledgment  and  reward.  They  were  both 
voung,  both  accomplished,  both  engaging  in  their 


344  LECTURE  X. 

manners  and  winning  in  their  address.  But  the 
English  officer's  act  was  connected  with  a  design 
which,  if  successful,  might  have  protracted  the  war 
for  years,  even  if  it  had  not  turned  the  scale  against 
us  ;  thus  his  name  became  permanently  associated 
with  a  great  enterprise  and  a  great  treason.  The 
enormity  of  Arnold's  villany  so  overshadowed 
every  subordinate  circumstance  that  men  never 
paused  to  weigh  the  measure  of  condemnation 
which  a  strict  morality  might  mete  out  to  his 
accomplice.  They  saw  only  the  gigantic  traitor, 
employing  for  the  destruction  of  his  confiding 
country  the  means  which  she  had  intrusted  to 
his  hands  for  her  protection.  They  saw  only 
that,  while  his  presence  of  mind  had  put  him 
beyond  the  reach  of  punishment,  he  had  left  a  vic 
tim  behind  him,  a  young  man  full  of  talents  and 
accomplishments  ;  and  as  they  looked  upon  him. 
their  hearts  were  saddened  at  the  thought  that 
such  a  one  must  lay  down  his  young  life  while  the 
master  criminal  lived  in  security.  But  they  did 
not  see  that  Andre's  success  involved  the  sacrifice 
of  many  innocent  men,  who,  in  that  midnight  as 
sault,  wherein  every  obstacle  was  removed  before 
hand,  would  have  been  led  like  victims  to  the 
slaughter.  They  did  not  see  that  in  calmly  dis 
cussing  its  details  during  the  long  hours  of  that 

o  r?  t> 

September  night,  under  the  pensive  light  of  the 
stars,  and  within  sound  of  the  soft  ripple  of  the 
Hudson,  he  had  been  calmly  laying  a  snare  for 


MARTYRS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.       345 

the  lives  of  gallant  men  ;  calmly  premeditating, 
not  an  attack  with  equal  chances  upon  men  who 
might  hope  to  defend  themselves,  but  the  slaughter 
of  unsuspecting  victims,  under  circumstances  which, 
giving  them  no  chances  of  defence,  would,  if  things 
were  always  called  by  their  true  names,  be  branded 
as  deliberate  murder. 

To  Hale's  undertaking  no  such  guilt  is  attached. 
The  only  life  that  he  put  in  jeopardy  was  his  own. 
It  was  an  individual  act,  by  which  his  country 
might  gain  much,  without  hazard,  —  a  self-imposed 
sacrifice,  wherein  he  hazarded  all,  without  the 
chance  or  the  expectation  of  reward,  as  rewards 
are  measured  by  human  ambition.  Should  he 
succeed,  —  should  he  escape  the  other  perils  of 
war,  and  live  to  see  a  fireside  of  his  own  and  chil 
dren  of  his  own  around  it,  he  might  tell  them, 
perhaps,  how,  when  the  patriot  army  was  sore  be 
set,  and  Washington  himself  at  a  loss  on  which 
side  to  look  for  the  coming  of  his  enemy,  he  had 
gone  secretly  among  them  at  the  hazard  of  his  life, 
discovered  their  plans,  revealed  them  to  his  Gen 
eral,  and  relieved  that  noble  mind  of  one  of  its 
cares.  But  to  his  brother  officers  he  could  say 
nothing.  Congress,  Washington  himself,  might 
never  know  what  he  had  done;  and  unless  some 
chance,  independent  of  any  influence  this  act  could 
have,  should  raise  him  higher,  he  might  end  his 
military  service  in  the  same  subordinate  station  in 
which  he  had  begun  it.  If  acts  are  to  be  judged 

15* 


346  LECTURE  X. 

by  the  sacrifices  they  impose,  and  actors  by  their 
motives,  there  is  but  little  room  for  a  parallel  be 
tween  Andre*  and  Hale.  But  the  servant  of  the 
king  sleeps  amid  poets,  and  orators,  and  statesmen, 
and  heroes,  in  the  hallowed  precincts  of  Westmin 
ster  Abbey  ;  while  an  insignificant  fort  in  the  har 
bor  of  New  Haven  is  the  only  spot  which  pre 
serves  the  name  of  the  republican  martyr. 

No  occurrence  of  the  war  excited  deeper  or 
more  general  indignation  than  the  official  murder 
of  Isaac  Hayne  of  South  Carolina;  for  it  was 
regarded  not  merely  as  a  wanton  sacrifice  of  a 
worthy  man,  but  as  a  brutal  attempt  on  the  part 
of  our  adversaries  to  retain  by  the  threat  of  the 
halter  an  authority  which  they  had  not  been  able 
to  preserve  by  the  sword.  The  capitulation  of 
Charleston  in  1780  had  thrown  a  large  body  of 
Carolina  militia  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  but  a 
special  provision  in  the  articles  of  capitulation  had 
secured  them  the  position  of  prisoners  on  parole. 
The  British  arms  continued  successful ;  the  State 
was  overrun  ;  and,  to  confirm  his  triumph,  the 
English  commander  called  upon  all  the  militiamen 
on  parole,  not  protected  by  the  fourth  clause  of 
the  capitulation,  to  make  an  immediate  choice  be- 
between  a  return  to  their  allegiance  and  close 
confinement.  Had  it  been  the  intention  of  the 
conqueror  to  adhere  to  his  pledge,  Hayne  would 
have  been  fully  protected  by  the  article  so  ex 
pressly  specified.  But,  in  open  violation  both  of 


MMtTniS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      347 

its  spirit  and  its  letter,  lie  was  summoned  to  ac 
knowledge  himself  a  British  subject  or  go  to  pris 
on.  The  moment  when  this  alternative  was  laid 
before  him  was  one  in  which  the  stoutest  heart 
might  have  faltered,  for  the  small-pox  was  in  his 
family,  and  to  leave  his  wife  and  children  was  like 
consigning  them  with  his  own  hands  to  the  grave. 
He  hastened  to  Charleston,  and,  expressly  stipu 
lating  that  he  should  not  be  called  upon  to  take  up 
arms  against  his  country,  made  the  fatal  acknowl 
edgment.  The  wife  for  whose  protection  he  had 
taken  this  unwelcome  step,  died  ;  he  had  already 
lost  one  child ;  a  second  soon  followed  its  mother 
to  the  grave.  Soon,  too,  he  found  that  his  stipu 
lation,  though  clear,  positive,  and  accepted  by 
the  British  commander  at  the  time,  was  no  pro 
tection  from  repeated  summons  to  join  in  an  active 
defence  of  the  English  supremacy.  To  these  sum 
mons,  though  often  repeated,  and  accompanied  by 
the  threat  of  imprisonment,  he  opposed  a  firm 
refusal. 

Then  came  Greene's  advance  into  South  Caro 
lina,  and  the  gradual  recession  of  the  English 
forces.  Soon  the  region  round  Hayne's  plantation 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  Americans.  The  English 
general  not  only  was  unable  to  enforce  the  alle 
giance  he  had  imposed,  but  even  to  protect  those 
who  had  accepted  it  from  their  irritated  and  vic 
torious  countrymen.  Hayne's  sentiments  were 
well  known.  It  was  well  known  that  his  heart 


348  LECTURE  X. 

was  with  the  Americans,  and  that  nothing  but  his 
strong  love  for  his  family  had  induced  him  to  accept 
the  hard  terms  so  unjustly  imposed  upon  him  at  a 
time  when,  unable  to  do  anything  for  his  country, 
he  might  still  do  so  much  for  them.  Yet,  without 
concealing  his  wishes,  he  restrained  his  zeal  until 
the  retreat  of  the  enemy  made  it  necessary  to  de 
cide  whether  he  would  follow  them  to  Charleston 
for  a  nominal  protection,  or  obey  the  dictates  of 
his  conscience  and  join  his  countrymen.  A  calm 
examination  of  his  position  convinced  him  that  an 
obligation  of  qualified  allegiance,  assumed  because 
the  district  he  lived  in  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  ceased  to  be  binding  from  the  moment  that 
they  who  imposed  it  were  stripped  of  their  suprem 
acy  ;  that  having  acknowledged  himself  a  British 
subject  for  the  purpose,  openly  avowed,  of  giving 
his  personal  attention  to  his  family  on  the  Edisto, 
and  with  an  express  declaration  that  he  would  not 
fight  against  his  country,  he  was  no  longer  a  Brit 
ish  subject  when  the  Edisto  had  passed  under  the 
control  of  the  Americans,  and  he  was  summoned,  in 
violation  of  his  express  stipulation,  to  take  up  arms 
against  them.  He  repaired  to  the  American  camp, 
was  welcomed,  placed  at  the  head  of  a  militia  regi 
ment,  surprised,  and  made  prisoner  by  militia  neg 
ligence. 

The  English  commander  wanted  a  victim,  and 
here  was  one.  I  will  not  follow  the  story  through 
its  sad  details:  the  unseemly  haste  with  which  his 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      349 

life  was  hunted  down,  the  mockery  of  the  forms 
of  justice,  the  efforts  of  friends  to  save  him,  the 
calmness  with  which  he  received  the  sentence  of 
death,  the  fortitude  with  which  he  met  it,  that 
parting  injunction  to  his  son  —  a  boy  of  thirteen  — 
to  come  for  his  body  to  the  foot  of  the  gallows  and 
give  it  decent  burial.  To  tell  this  is  the  office  of 
history,  and  we  have  not  room  for  it  here.  What 
I  wish  to  dwell  upon  is  the  spirit  which  this  mar 
tyrdom  awakened,  and  which,  if  the  war  had  con 
tinued,  might  have  swelled  our  list  of  martyrs  by 
hundreds. 

For  when  this  occurred  the  American  army  was 
encamped  at  the  high  hills  of  Santee,  resting  them 
selves  after  a  long  and  exhausting  campaign.  Thus 
the  tidings  reached  them  at  a  time  when  they  had 
leisure  and  opportunity  to  discuss  and  compare 
their  opinions.  The  indignation  was  universal ; 
there  was  a  common  cry  for  vengeance.  But 
there  was  but  one  way  by  which  they  could 
avenge  him,  and  that  was  by  retaliation.  Greene's 
resolution  was  taken  instantly.  This  must  be  the 
last  judicial  murder.  To  strike  at  the  American 
loyalists  would  produce  no  effect.  English  officers 
themselves  must  be  made  to  feel  that  the  lives  of 
Americans  would  no  longer  be  taken  with  impu 
nity.  But  at  this  time  a  large  body  of  American 
prisoners  \\  ho  had  been  regularly  exchanged  were  on 
their  way  from  St.  Augustine  to  the  North,  and  to 
give  full  time  for  their  safe  arrival  he  was  compelled 


350  LECTURE  X. 

to  conceal  his  intention  for  a  while  even  from  his 
own  army.  The  officers  became  uneasy.  They- 
knew  that  in  asking  for  retaliation  they  were  doub 
ling  their  own  hazards  ;  for  to  be  taken  prisoner  — 
and  who  could  secure  them  against  the  chances  of 
war?  —  would  become  a  sentence  of  death.  But 
they  were  resolved  at  every  hazard  to  enforce  the 
laws  by  which  civilization  has  stript  war  of  many  of 
its  horrors ;  they  were  resolved  that  the  name  of 
American  and  the  commission  of  Congress  should 

to 

henceforth  be  a  protection  from  the  wantonness  of 
systematic  persecution.  To  give  full  and  solemn 
expression  to  their  sentiments,  they  drew  up  an  ad 
dress  to  their  commander ;  which  I  will  not  attempt 
to  analyze,  for  analysis  would  give  you  a  very  im 
perfect  idea  of  its  firm  and  magnanimous  spirit  and 
the  calm  dignity  of  its  language.  I  will  read  it  to 
you  from  the  original,  for  the  paper  which  I  hold 
in  my  hand  is  the  original  itself.  (See  p.  458.) 

I  have  already  said  that  Greene  had  resolved 
upon  retaliation  the  moment  he  heard  of  Hayne's 
murder.  But  the  threat,  supported  by  the  battle 
of  Eutaw  and  the  rapid  success  of  the  American 
arms,  proved  sufficient ;  and  this  was  the  last  in 
stance  of  that  barbarous  policy,  more  unwise  even 
than  barbarous,  which,  during  the  brief  duration 
of  the  English  supremacy,  had  stained  the  soil  of 
Carolina  with  so  much  innocent  blood. 

Thus  far  I  have  spoken  of  individuals,  —  of 
forms  which  stand  out  in  bold  relief  in  the  trans- 


MARTYRS   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      351 

parent  light  of  history.  But  what  shall  I  say  of 
tile  thousands  whose  sufferings,  blended  in  one 
common  lot,  are  known  only  as  the  victims  of  the 
jail  and  the  prison-ship  ?  Never  were  souls  more 
tried  than  theirs ;  never  was  the  crown  of  martyr 
dom  won  by  tortures  harder  to  bear  than  the  tor 
tures  which  they  bore  from  week  to  week  and  month 
to  month,  till  nature,  sinking  under  the  protracted 
agony,  sought  shelter  in  the  grave.  And  that 
grave  itself  a  few  inches  of  sand,  which  the  first 
ebbings  and  Sowings  of  the  tide  washed  away, 
leaving  all  that  hunger,  and  foul  air,  and  the  dis 
eases  which  they  engender,  had  spared  them  of 
the  image  of  their  Maker  to  crumble  and  bleach 
in  the  wind  and  sun.  On  the  shores  of  Wallabout 
Bay,  alone,  it  is  supposed  that  more  than  eleven 
thousand  received  this  mockery  of  burial ;  and  if 
we  add  to  these  the  victims  of  the  sugar-houses 
of  New  York,  of  the  prisons  and  prison-ships  of 
Charleston,  and  St.  Augustine,  what  fearful  pro 
portions  does  the  list  of  our  martyrs  assume  ! 

It  is  difficult,  nay  almost  impossible,  to  form  an 
idea  of  these  sufferings.  The  imagination  sinks 
powerless  before  this  canvas,  crowded  with  thou 
sands  of  human  forms,  melting  in  lurid  light  into 
one  ghastly  mass  of  human  misery.  Nor  would  I 
dwell  upon  them,  if  I  did  not  feel  that  forgetfulness 
of  the  debt  we  owe  the  sufferers  has  had  a  large 
part  in  producing  the  sufferings  of  our  own  hour 
of  trial.  Let  us  take  one,  therefore,  and  fix  our 


352  LECTURE  X. 

attention  upon  him,  that  in  his  sufferings  we  may 
realize  more  distinctly  what  thousands  suffer^, 
with  him,  and  in  every  suffering  that  we  assign 
him  let  us  be  careful  to  add  nothing  which  every 
individual  of  them  all  did  not  actually  endure. 
Shall  we  choose  him  from  town  or  country  ? 
There  were  hundreds  and  hundreds  from  each. 
Let  him  have  come,  then,  from  the  pure  air  of  his 
own  fields,  where  he  left  his  plough  in  the  furrow- 
to  seize  his  fowling-piece  or  gird  on  the  sword 
which  his  father  had  worn  with  honor  in  the  old 
French  war.  Thrown  down  in  the  shock  of  bat 
tle  he  awakes  from  his  trance  to  find  himself  a 
prisoner  pent  up  in  a  close  room  with  a  crowd  of 
prisoners.  Hours  pass,  but  no  one  brings  them 
food  or  water.  Night  comes  ;  in  the  stifling  atmos 
phere,  thirst,  such  as  he  had  never  dreamed  of  be 
fore,  burns  into  his  veins.  He  begs  for  a  drop  of 
water,  but  the  sentinel  at  the  door  breaks  out  in  a 
song  full  of  mockery.  He  struggles  to  the  win 
dow  and  tries  for  a  breath  of  pure  air,  but  the 
sentry  thrusts  him  back  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 
Another  day,  another  night,  —  food  comes  at  last, 
—  bread  that  he  can  hardly  break,  meat  that  even 
in  this  extremity  he  turns  from  with  loathing.  But 
O  what  a  delicious  draught  in  that  cup  of  water ! 
though  it  is  water  which,  if  not  taken  from  a  mud 
dy  pool,  has  stood  in  filthy  vessels  exposed  to  the 
sun  till  all  its  life-giving  freshness  was  gone.  Then 
a  weary  march  to  the  river-side,  —  weary,  because 


MARTYRS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      353 

he  is  already  faint  with  hunger ;  but,  at  least,  it  is 
a  march  in  the  pure  air ;  and  how  sweetly  does 
its  freshness  float  around  his  brow,  and  check  the 
fever  that  had  begun  to  kindJe  its  slow  fires  in 
his  veins !  Faint  and  exhausted  as  he  is  he  would 
have  gladly  kept  on  a  few  miles  farther,  for  the 
sake  of  that  free-drawn  breath  and  the  sight  of 
something  besides  despairing  faces,  the  sound  of 
something  besides  despairing  groans.  But  here  he 
stands  on  the  river's  brink,  and  out  there  at  an 
chor,  securely  moored,  stem  and  stern,  lies  the  hulk 
of  a  huge  man-of-war;  the  masts  and  bowsprit 
gone,  but  with  a  signal  pole  midships ;  a  small  tent 
on  the  stern  to  screen  the  sentry  from  the  sun ; 
something  rising  above  her  bulwarks,  he  cannot 
guess  what,  though  he  will  soon  find  why  it  was 
put  there ;  and  the  portholes  all  open,  and  all  filled 
with  human  faces,  looking  out,  some  listlessly,  some 
eagerly,  all  hopelessly.  He  is  soon  among  them. 
A  long,  fixed  staging,  leading  from  the  water's  edge, 
receives  him  after  a  few  strokes  of  the  oar.  The 
sentry  at  the  gangway  passes  him  roughly  down ; 
name,  regiment,  description  of  his  person,  are  en 
tered  upon  the  register :  the  formalities  are  all 
over ;  he  is  a  prisoner,  and  this  is  the  Jersey. 

He  had  good  clothes  on  when  he  was  taken, 
but  they  have  given  him  rags  instead  ;  a  little 
money,  —  they  would  have  taken  that,  too,  but 
when  he  saw  them  stripping  his  comrades  he  hid 
his  money  in  his  mouth  till  he  had  got  his  tatters 


354  LECTURE  X. 

on,  and  then  he  knew  it  was  safe.  He  cannot  join 
the  groups  on  the  main-deck,  for  he  longs  to  be 
alone.  But  as  he  approaches  the  hatchway  to  go 
down  below  he  is  met  by  such  a  stifling  current  of 
foul  air  that  he  staggers  back  gasping  for  breath. 
Anything  but  this.  An  old  prisoner  observes  him, 
and  tells  him  that  that  is  the  air  he  must  sleep  in. 
By  degrees,  as  he  moves  about  among  the  groups, 
and  what  with  question  and  reply,  he  begins  to 
make  acquaintances,  —  tells  his  story,  hears  theirs. 
Dinner  is  served  out.  With  an  appetite  sharpened 
by  almost  three  days  of  starvation,  he  succeeds  in 
eating  a  little  of  the  sour  bread ;  after  a  few  days 
more  he  will  begin  to  taste  the  tainted  meat.  And 
thus  thinking  over  the  past,  not  daring  to  look  for 
ward  to  the  future,  his  first  day  wears  slowly  on. 
And  what  a  night  is  that  which  follows  !  Forced 
down  into  that  pestilential  air,  where  fever  and  its 
kindred  diseases  love  to  make  their  dwelling,  he 
lays  him  on  filthy  straw  and  tries  to  sleep.  But 
the  groans  of  the  prisoner  beside  him  will  not  let 
him  sleep ;  yet  lie  he  must,  for  he  cannot  take  a 
step  without  treading  on  the  recumbent  form  of 
some  fellow-sufferer,  only  by  so  much  less  wretched 
than  himself  inasmuch  as  he  has  become  familiar 
with  these  sights  and  sounds  and  can  sleep  in  de 
spite  of  them.  How  gladly,  yet  with  what  a  heavy 
heart  and  aching  head,  does  he  see  the  return  of 
day !  With  it  comes  the  rough  voice  of  the  guard 
from  above :  "  Rebels,  bring  up  your  dead."  And 


MARTYRS  OF   THE  REVOLUTION.      355 

while  he  looks  about  him  for  the  meaning  of  such 
a  summons  he  sees  a  general  rising  and  moving. 
Some  stoop  down  over  the  bed  next  them  and  lift 
up  its  tenant,  —  the  corpse  that  became  a  corpse 
while  they  slept,  —  and  carry  it  to  the  hatchway  to 
be  thrown  into  the  boat  and  carried  off  for  burial. 
He  remembers  the  groans  that  kept  him  awake  so 
long,  and  turns  to  the  place  at  his  side  they  came 
from.  There  will  be  no  more  groaning  from  those 
lips,  —  livid,  clammy,  but  O  how  fearfully  eloquent 
in  their  appeal  from  tyranny  to  God !  He  shudders ; 
a  chill  runs  over  him  as  he  thinks  that  perhaps  not 
very  far  off  there  might  be  a  mother,  a  wife,  chil 
dren,  who  would  have  deemed  it  a  blessed  privi 
lege  to  press  one  parting  kiss  upon  them  before 
they  were  consigned  forever  to  the  silence  and  dark 
ness  of  the  grave.  But  he  has  no  time  for  these 
thoughts  now,  though  they  will  come  back  to  him 
at  night  when  he  again  lays  him  down  in  the  com 
pany  of  the  dying.  Now  he  must  repress  ah1  his 
natural  feelings,  and  help  carry  that  body  to  the 
companion-way  and  see  it  thrown  headlong  into 
the  *boat. 

But  enough;  I  have  exaggerated  nothing;  I 
have  added  nothing,  although  I  have  suppressed 
and  omitted  much.  I  have  not  dared  to  dip 
my  pencil  deep  enough  in  the  fearful  elements  of 
which  this  picture  is  composed  to  paint  it  in  all  its 
shocking  realities.  But  if,  with  the  picture  such  as 
I  have  it  before  your  minds,  you  add  that  there 


35G  LECTURE  X. 

was  not  one  of  all  these  sufferers  who  might  not 
have  purchased  instant  freedom  by  renouncing  his 
country,  you  will  see  what  kind  of  spirit  that  was 
which  animated  the  martyrs  of  the  American  Revo 
lution.  And  whence  was  that  spirit  drawn  but 
from  the  conviction,  so  deep-rooted  and  so  clearly 
expressed,  that  they  were  suffering  for  the  cause 
of  humanity :  sacrificing  themselves  that  their  chil 
dren  and  their  children's  children  might  live  united 
and  free  in  a  land  consecrated  to  Freedom  and 
Union ! 


LECTURE    XI. 

LITERATURE   OF   THE  REVOLUTION. 
PART  I. —  PROSE. 

HEAT  revolutions,  being  attended  by  extraor- 
VJT  dinary  intellectual  activity,  are  generally 
favorable  to  the  cause  of  literature.  When  the 
public  mind  is  kept  in  a  constant  state  of"  agitation, 
the  mind  of  the  individual  not  only  partakes  of  the 
general  excitement,  but  is  often  roused  to  a  degree 
of  exertion  which  it  would  have  been  incapable  of 
in  times  of  public  tranquillity.  All  the  great  land 
marks  of  thought  are  lost ;  principles  that  seemed 
beyond  the  reach  of  doubt  are  called  in  question  ; 
immoderate  hope  and  immoderate  fear  prevail  by 
turns,  often  succeeding  each  other  with  inconceiv 
able  rapidity ;  and  the  mind,  tossed  to  and  fro 
without  respite,  now  grasping  at  one  phantom  and 
now  at  another,  is  equally  eager  in  whatever  direc 
tion  it  turns,  and  as  bold  in  its  efforts  to  reason  as 
in  its  wildest  flights  of  imagination  ;  and  when 
at  last  the  commotion  ceases,  and  society  puts  on 
its  new  form,  the  intellectual  impulse  still  con 
tinues,  and  the  new  ideas  which  have  been  brought 


358  LECTURE  XL 

up  from  depths  never  reached  before  become  the 
starting-points  from  which  new  generations  set 
forth  upon  new  inquiries. 

But  revolution,  in  order  to  give  this  impulse  to 
literature,  must  receive  its  own  impulse  from  those 
deeper  sources  in  which  thought  and  feeling  are 
blended.  It  is  only  when  men  think  with  their 
hearts,  if  I  may  borrow  an  expression  from  the 
father  of  verse,*  that  their  faculties  are  thoroughly 
roused.  And  to  think  with  our  hearts  requires 
that  the  subject  should  be  one  from  which,  when 
once  started,  there  is  no  escape.  It  must  follow  us 
wherever  we  go,  meet  us  at  every  turn,  intertwine 
itself  with  all  the  relations  of  life,  and  infuse  its 
spirit  into  all  our  actions. 

This  complete  possession  of  the  human  soul  and 
absolute  control  of  the  human  will  does  not  belong 
to  questions  which  have  their  beginning  and  their 
end  in  this  life.  Individuals  may  give  themselves 
up  to  ambition  or  pleasure,  classes  may  become 
absorbed  in  the  pursuit  of  power  or  gain,  but  there 
are  recesses  in  the  human  heart  which  neither  the 
ambition  of  power  nor  the  ambition  of  wealth  can 
penetrate  ;  and,  until  these  recesses  are  reached, 
it  is  impossible  to  arouse  the  whole  body  of  society 
to  self-denial  and  continuous  exertion. 

Wickliffe  was  contemporary  with  Chaucer.  The 
introduction  of  the  Reformation  was  followed  by 

*  *Eo)S  6  ravff  wpp.ai.vf  KOTO,  (ppfva  KCU  KOTO,  dvfiov- 

Iliad,  I.  193. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    359 

the  most  original  period  of  English  literature. 
The  deep  convictions  of  the  English  Revolution 
glow  with  intense  energy  in  the  "  Paradise  Lost." 
Even  that  less  original  development  which  has 
often  been  called  the  Augustan  age  of  English 
literature  followed  close  upon  the  last  great  up 
rising  of  Protestant  zeal  in  England  in  1688. 
And  never  before  in  the  whole  course  of  its  his 
tory  did  the  French  mind  display  such  fertility  and 
vigor  as  during  its  long  contest  with  that  arrogant 
spirit  which,  manifesting  itself  first  in  the  domain 
of  religious  thought  and  then  in  the  broader  field 
of  civil  life,  claimed  equally  in  both  the  right  of 
controlling  man's  action  in  the  name  of  his  Maker. 
But  the  American  Revolution,  with  all  its  ear 
nestness  of  purpose,  with  all  its  strength  of  con 
viction,  belongs,  in  its  intellectual  relations,  to  the 
domain  of  reason  rather  than  to  the  domain  of 
feeling.  It  was  the  expression  of  a  belief  founded, 
indeed,  upon  those  instinctive  suggestions  in  which 
the  heart  and  mind  act  together,  but  a  belief  which 
appealed  for  confirmation  to  the  deductions  of  rig 
orous  logic  and  the  facts  of  positive  history.  It 
was  a  legal  contest,  beginning  with  the  statute- 
book,  passing  logically  to  Grotius  and  Puffendorff, 
and  never,  even  in  the  hour  of  intensest  excite 
ment,  losing  sight  of  the  acknowledged  landmarks 
of  thought.  Hence,  while  it  brought  out  in  full 
light  principles  overlaid  till  then  by  old  forms  and 
customs,  it  started  no  new  theories,  opened  no  new 


360  LECTURE  XL 

fountains  of  feeling,  left  the  floodgates  of  passion 
untouched.  Its  heroes  were  thoughtful,  reasoning 
men,  accustomed  to  stand  on  firm  ground,  and  who 
felt  that  their  new  position  could  only  be  made  ten 
able  by  connecting  it  logically  with  the  old.  They 
came  not  to  create,  but  to  eliminate  ;  not  to  grasp 
at  the  future  by  speculative  combinations,  but  to 
remove  from  their  own  path  —  and  thereby  from 
their  children's  also  —  the  obstacles  which,  had  so 
long  impeded  the  natural  development  of  acknowl 
edged  laws.  But  while  they  thought  soberly,  they 
thought  also  boldly,  shrinking  from  no  remote  con 
sequence  of  a  principle,  however  repugnant  to 
common  opinion ;  asserting  in  their  largest  com 
prehension  the  conclusions  to  which  they  had  been' 
led  by  close  adherence  to  the  laws  of  reasoning,  al 
though  that  unreserved  assertion  sometimes  placed 
them  in  painful  contradiction  with  their  actual 
position.  And  thus  they  sometimes  reached,  by  a 
severe  logic,  heights  which  are  seldom  reached 
without  a  vigorous  effort  of  imagination. 

When  Jefferson  asserted  as  the  justification  of 
our  national  existence  that  all  men  are  born  free 
and  equal,  he  merely  reduced  to  its  simplest  form 
of  expression  that  fundamental  truth  which  had 
been  gradually  making  itself  clearer  to  logical 
minds  ever  since  the  gathering  at  Runnymede.* 

*  The  progress  of  the  Roman  "  Omnes  homines  natura  aequa- 
les  sunt "  from  a  "  legal  rule  to  a  political  dogma,"  has  been 
sketched  with  a  rapid  but  a  masterly  hand  by  Maine  iu  his 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    361 

And  when  Washington  accepted  it,  lie  frankly 
accepted  with  it  its  natural  corollary,  although 
that  corollary  involved  a  radical  change  in  the 
organization  of  labor;  when  Greene  accepted  it, 
he  followed  it  to  its  practical  consequence,  and 
recorded  it  as  his  deliberate  conviction  :  "  On  the 
subject  of  slavery,  nothing  can  be  said  in  its  de 
fence." 

But  in  all  this  it  was  the  reason  which  deduces 
and  binds  together,  not  the  imagination  which 
creates  and  stimulates,  that  was  the  guide.  No 
fermentation  of  thought,  no  wrestling  with  stub 
born  doubts,  was  required  to  reach  those  truths. 
Nowhere  in  its  progress  did  the  mind  find  itself 
shrinking  and  shuddering  on  the  brink  of  awful 
precipices,  but  ever  looking  forth  rather  from 
serene  heights  over  a  path  which  still  led  onward 
and  upward. 

Hence,  the  literature  of  our  Revolution  was 
chiefly  a  literature  of  investigation,  reasoning,  and 
sober  thought.  Men  drew  their  inspiration  from 
the  statute-book,  reached  their  theories  by  labori 
ous  induction,  and  seldom,  when  warming  into 
eloquence,  lost  sight  of  rule  and  precedent.  If  we 
go  to  them  for  bold  images,  original  forms,  start 
ling  conclusions,  we  shall  be  greatly  disappointed. 

recent  History  of  Ancient  Law,  Ch.  IV.  pp.  88  et  seg.  of  th« 
American  edition  ;  a  work  of  the  highest  authority  in  itself,  and 
which  has  acquired  new  value  by  the  admirable  introduction 
prefixed  to  it  by  the  American  editor,  Professor  T.  W.  Dwight, 
of  Columbia  College. 
16 


362  LECTURE  XL 

But  they  are  able  expounders  of  fundamental 
truths,  skilful  illustrators  of  vital  principles,  ear 
nest  advocates  of  human  rights.  They  wrote,  not 
to  build  up  a  literature,  but  to  defend  a  holy 
cause  ;  and  their  works,  like  those  massive  founda 
tion  walls  on  which  modern  Romans  have  built 
the  palaces  of  a  new  society  and  the  temples  of  a 
new  faith,  carry  us  back  to  an  age  of  strong  men 
building  for  eternity. 

First  among  them,  and  still  unsurpassed  as  a, 
writer  of  pure  English  in  a  simple,  graceful,  and 
natural  style,  was 

"  Your  island  city's  greatest  son,"  — 

Benjamin  Franklin.  To  write  well,  as  I  have 
hinted  in  another  Lecture,  was  one  of  the  earliest 
objects  of  his  ambition  ;  and  starting  with  the  con 
viction  that  "  true  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art," 
he  set  himself  to  the  study  of  this  art  as  he  set 
himself  to  the  study  of  the  art  that  he  expected  to 
earn  his  bread  by,  with  an  enthusiasm  tempered 
by  judgment.  Let  me  give  you  the  story  in  his 
own  words. 

"  About  this  time  I  met  with  an  odd  volume  of 
the  4  Spectator.'  I  had  never  before  seen  any  of 
them.  I  bought  it,  read  it  over  and  over,  and  was 
much  delighted  with  it.  I  thouo-ht  the  writino- 

o  o  e> 

excellent,  and  wished,  if  possible,  to  imitate  it. 
With  that  view  I  took  some  of  the  papers,  and 
making  short  hints  of  the  sentiments  in  each  sen- 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    363 

tence,  laid  them  by  a  few  days,  and  then,  without 
looking  at  the  book,  tried  to  complete  the  papers 
again  by  expressing  each  hinted  sentiment  at 
length,  and  as  fully  as  it  had  been  expressed  be 
fore,  in  any  suitable  words  that  should  occur  to 
me.  Then  I  compared  my  '  Spectator  '  with  the 
original,  discovered  some  of  my  faults  and  cor 
rected  them.  But  I  found  I  wanted  a  stock  of 
words,  or  a  readiness  in  recollecting  and  using 
them,  which  I  thought  I  should  have  acquired 
before  that  time,  if  I  had  gone  on  making  verses, 
since  the  continual  search  for  words  of  the  same 
import,  but  of  different  length  to  suit  the  measure, 
or  of  different  sound  for  the  rhyme,  would  have 
laid  me  under  a  constant  necessity  of  searching  for 
variety,  and  also  have  tended  to  fix  that  variety  in 
my  mind,  and  make  me  master  of  it.  Therefore  I 
took  some  of  the  tales  in  the  'Spectator,'  and 
turned  them  into  verse  ;  and  after  a  time,  when  I 
had  pretty  well  forgotten  the  prose,  turned  them 
back  again. 

"  I  also  sometimes  jumbled  my  collection  of 
hints  into  confusion ;  and,  after  some  weeks,  en 
deavored  to  reduce  them  into  the  best  order  before 
I  began  to  form  the  full  sentences  and  complete 
the  subject.  This  was  to  teach  me  method  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  thoughts.  By  comparing  my 
work  with  the  original,  I  discovered  many  faults 
and  corrected  them  ;  but  I  sometimes  had  the 
pleasure  to  fancy  that,  in  certain  particulars  oi:' 


3d  LECTURE  XI. 

small  consequence,  I  had  been  fortunate  enough 
to  improve  the  method  or  the  language  ;  and  this 
encouraged  me  to  think  that  I  might  in  time  come 
to  be  a  tolerable  English  writer,  —  of  which  I  was 
extremely  ambitious." 

If  there  were  time  to  comment  upon  this  narra 
tive,  there  are  two  points  in  it  upon  which  I  would 
gladly  enlarge.  One  is,  that  Franklin  chose  for 
himself  a  model,  and  studied  it  thoroughly,  — stud 
ied  it  as  a  great  sculptor  studies  the  antique  ;  and 
yet,  like  the  great  sculptor,  put  so  much  of  his 
own  into  his  works  that  all  that  reminds  you  of  his 
master  in  them  is  that  fine  flavor  of  genuine  nature 
which  they  both  possess  in  an  almost  equal  degree. 
And  the  other,  that  they  who,  in  their  idle  railing 
at  Latin  and  Greek,  cite  Franklin's  style  as  a  proof 
of  what  mere  English  can  do,  forget  that,  if  Frank 
lin  did  not  sit  directly  at  the  feet  of  Xenophon 
and  Cicero,  the  master  at  whose  feet  he  sat  was 
one  of  the  most  diligent  and  faithful  of  their  dis 
ciples. 

One  of  the  first  things  that  strikes  you  in  Frank 
lin's  writings  is  that  he  always  has  something  to 
say.  His  sentences  are  not  crowded  with  ideas 
like  Bacon's ;  but,  from  the  moment  that  you  be 
gin  to  read,  you  find  yourself  under  the  influence 
of  another  mind  ;  and  yet  that  influence  is  exerted 
so  gently,  his  thoughts  steal  into  your  mind  with 
such  mild  persuasiveness  and  blend  so  readily  with 
*  Sparks's  Franklin,  Vol.  I.  p.  18. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    3G5 

your  thoughts,  that  it  is  only  when  you  come  to 
examine  yourself  upon  the  subject,  and  recall  the 
actual  amount  of  knowledge  you  set  out  with,  that 
you  perceive  how  much  you  have  added  to  it  and 
what  an  impulse  he  has  given  you.  His  words 
are  simple,  —  the  words  of  common  life,  neither 
bigotedly  Saxon  nor  studiously  Latin,  but  the 
words  he  talked  with  every  day,  and  which  both 
from  his  pen  and  his  lips  found  their  way  with 
equal  readiness  to  the  understandings  of  poor  and 
rich,  of  prince  and  peasant.  Few  men  have  hit 
more  happily  the  medium  betwixt  the  diffusion 
that  leads  to  weakness  and  the  concision  that 
leads  to  aridity.  He  has  never  too  many  words 
for  forcible  expression,  and  never  too  few  for  ade 
quate  expression.  And  without  any  obtrusive 
study  of  harmony,  he  arranges  them  with  such  a 
delicate  perception  of  their  relations  as  sounds, 
that  his  sentences  flow  with  a  melody  that  lingers 
soothingly  in  the  mind  long  after  it  has  ceased  to 
reach  the  ear. 

Like  his  great  master,  Addison,  and  his  great 
contemporary,  Goldsmith,  he  possessed  in  an  emi 
nent  degree  that  rare  quality  of  delicate  humor 
which  Englishmen,  forgetful  of  Gasparo  Gozzi, 
have  claimed  as  exclusively  their  own.  Yet, 
while  he  believed  that  men  mio-ht  often  be  laughed 

£3  O 

out  of  their  foibles,  he  believed  also  that  vices 
called  for  sterner  rebuke  ;  and  often,  as  his  feelings 
grew  warm,  he  gave  them  utterance  in  satire, 


366  LECTURE  XL 

which,  but  for  an  under-current  of  genial  sympathy 
which  he  could  never  wholly  repress,  would  have 
blistered  and  burnt  like  the  satire  of  Swift. 

You  will  readily  conceive  that  for  a  genius  like 
his  the  controversy  with  England  opened  an  am 
ple  field,  calling  out  all  the  resources  of  wit,  il 
lustration,  and  argument.  Living  in  London,  as 
agent  for  four  Colonies,  two  of  them  the  impor 
tant  Colonies  of  Massachusetts  and  Pennsylvania, 
he  was  enabled  to  follow  the  progress  of  opinion  in 
England,  and  measure  from  the  beginning  the  ex 
tent  of  the  blindness  and  passion  which  were  has 
tening  the  final  rupture.  He  would  gladly  have 
stayed  it,  for  he  thought  it  premature,  and  hence 
his  voice  was  raised  in  warnings,  grave  and  earnest 
in  spirit,  though  often  playful,  sometimes  ironical 
in  form.  The  profoundest  reasoning  could  not 
have  set  in  a  more  striking  light  the  absurdity  and 
impolicy  of  the  acts  of  Parliament  for  restraining 
American  industry,  than  his  "  Edict  by  the  King 
of  Prussia"  setting  forth  his  claims  to  the  sov 
ereignty  over  England  in  virtue  of  the  German 
origin  of  Hengist  and  Horsa  and  their  companions 
and  followers.*  Still  more  severe  in  its  irony, 
and  equally  profound  in  its  wisdom,  is  the  piece  to 
which  he  gave  the  title,  a  satire  in  itself,  of  "  Rules 
for  reducing  a  great  Empire  to  a  small  one ;  pre 
sented  to  a  late  Minister  when  he  entered  upon  his 
Administration."  Observe  how  directly  he  comes 


*  Sparks's  Franklin,  Vol.  IV.  p. 


39U. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    367 

9 

to  his  subject,  and  with  what  a  masterly  touch  he 
brings  out  the  great  underlying  truth  :  — 

"  An  ancient  sage  valued  himself  upon  this :  that 
though  he  could  not  fiddle,  he  knew  how  to  make 
a  great  city  of  a  little  one.  The  science  that  I,  a 
modern  simpleton,  am  about  to  communicate,  is 
the  very  reverse. 

"  I  address  myself  to  all  ministers  who  have  the 
management  of  extensive  dominions,  which  from 
their  very  greatness  have  become  troublesome  to 
govern,  because  the  multiplicity  of  their  affairs 
leaves  no  time  for  fiddling. 

"  1.  In  the  first  place,  gentlemen,  you  are  to 
consider,  that  a  great  empire,  like  a  great  cake,  is 
most  easily  diminished  at  the  edges.  Turn  your 
attention,  therefore,  first  to  your  remotest  prov 
inces  ;  that  as  you  get  rid  of  them,  the  next  may 
follow  in  order. 

"  2.  That  the  possibility  of  this  separation  may 
always  exist,  take  special  care  the  provinces  are 
never  incorporated  with  the  mother  country ;  that 
they  do  not  enjoy  the  same  common  rights ;  the 
same  privileges  in  commerce;  and  that  they  are 
governed  by  severer  laws,  all  of  your  enacting, 
without  allowing  them  any  share  in  the  choice  of 
the  legislators.  By  carefully  making  and  observ 
ing  such  distinctions,  you  will  (to  keep  to  my  sim 
ile  of  the  cake)  act  like  a  wise  gingerbread-baker, 
who,  to  facilitate  a  division,  cuts  his  dough  half 
tli rough  in  those  places  where,  when  baked,  he 
would  have  it  broken  to  pieces. 


3G8  LECTURE  XL 

"  3.  Those  remote  provinces  have  perhaps  been 
acquired,  purchased,  or  conquered,  at  the  sole  ex 
pense  of  the  settlers  or  their  ancestors ;  without  the 
aid  of  the  mother  country.  If  this  should  happen 
to  increase  her  strength,  by  their  growing  num 
bers,  ready  to  join  in  her  wars,  her  commerce,  by 
their  growing  demand  for  her  manufactures,  or  her 
naval  power,  by  greater  employment  for  her  ships 
and  seamen,  they  may  probably  suppose  some  merit 
in  this,  and  that  it  entitles  them  to  some  favor ;  you 
are  therefore  to  forget  it  all,  or  resent  it,  as  if  they 
had  done  you  injury.  If  they  happen  to  be  zealous 
Whigs,  friends  of  liberty,  nurtured  in  revolution 
principles,  remember  all  that  to  their  prejudice, 
and  contrive  to  punish  it ;  for  such  principles,  after 
a  revolution  is  thoroughly  established,  are  of  no 
more  use ;  they  are  even  odious  and  abominable. 

"  4.  However  peaceably  your  colonies  have  sub 
mitted  to  your  judgment,  shown  their  affection  to 
your  interests,  and  patiently  borne  their  griev 
ances,  you  are  to  suppose  them  always  inclined  to 
revolt,  and  treat  them  accordingly.  Quarter  troops 
among  them,  who  by  their  insolence  may  provoke 
the  rising  of  mobs,  and  by  their  bullets  and  bayo 
nets  suppress  them.  By  this  means,  like  the  hus 
band  who  uses  his  wife  ill  from  suspicion,  you  may 
in  time  convert  your  suspicions  into  realities."  * 

I  give  you  only  extracts ;  you  should  read  the 
whole  piece  for  yourselves ;  and  then  turn  to  Swift 

*  Sparks's  Franklin,  Vol.  IV.  p.  388. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    369 

and  see  if  he  has  anywhere  a  keener  page  than 
this.  And  yet  do  you  not  feel,  as  you  read,  that 
it  was  written  not  in  bitterness  but  in  sadness  of 
heart?  —  that  the  benevolent  old  man  was  shud 
dering,  as  he  wrote,  at  the  miseries  he  foresaw,  was 
lingering  with  deep  yearnings  over  the  recollection 
of  the  blessings  he  had  enjoyed  ?  * 

Still  more  striking  is  the  piece  written  on  his 
death-bed,  just  twenty-four  days  before  he  died, 
and  which  as  we  read  it  now  in  the  midst  of  a  war 
for  the  extension  of  slavery  and  reopening  of  the 
slave-trade,  makes  us  blush  to  think  that  we  should 

*  As  this  page  is  passing  through  the  press  I  find  an  important 
tribute  to  Franklin  as  an  interpreter  of  nature,  in  Dr.  Youmans's 
valuable  introduction  to  the  American  edition  of  the  recent  Eng 
lish  work  upon  the  "  Correlation  and  Conservation  of  Forces  "  :  — 
"  It  was  this  country,  widely  reproached  for  being  over-practical, 
which  produced  just  that  kind  of  working  ability  that  was  suited 
to  transfer  this  profound  question  from  the  barren  to  the  fruitful 
field  of  inquiry.  It  is  a  matter  of  just  national  pride  that  the  two 
men  who  first  demonstrated  the  capital  propositions  of  pure  sci 
ence,  that  lightning  is  but  a  case  of  common  electricity,  and  that 
heat  is  but  a  mode  of  motion,  who  first  converted  these  proposi 
tions  from  conjectures  of  fancy  to  facts  of  science,  were  not  only 
Americans  by  birth  and  education,  but  men  eminently  repre 
sentative  of  the  peculiarities  of  American  character :  Benjamin 
Franklin,  and  Benjamin  Thompson,  afterwards  known  as  Count 
Rumford." 

Of  the  many  literary  portraits  that  have  been  drawn  of  Frank 
lin  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  referring  to  that  by  my 
friend  Henry  T.  Tuckerman  in  his  "  Biographical  Essays,  or 
Studies  of  Character,"  a  work  remarkable  for  delicate  obser 
vation,  accurate  thought,  and  good  writing. 

16*  x 


370  LECTURE  XL 

still,  in  1863,  be  so  little  in  advance  of  the  ground 
he  stood  upon  in  1790.  I  have  not  time  to  read  it 
here,  but  I  recommend  it  to  the  thoughtful  exam 
ination  of  all  those  who  permit  themselves  to  en 
tertain  doubts  as  to  the  interpretation  which  one 
of  the  wisest  and  most  influential  members  of  the 
Convention  of  1788  put  upon  the  first  clause  of 
the  9th  Section,  Article  I.,  and  the  third  clause  of 
the  2d  Section,  Article  IV.,  of  the  Constitution. 

Next  to  Franklin's  no  name  was  more  familiar 
to  Americans  from  1768  to  1775  than  the  name 
of  John  Dickinson,  the  author  of  the  "  Farmer's 
Letters."  This  eminent  man  was  born  in  Mary 
land  on  the  13th  of  November,  1732,  and  while  he 
was  yet  a  child  his  parents  moved  to  Delaware,  or 
as  it  was  then  called,  the  three  lower  counties  on 
the  Delaware.  It  was  there  that  he  received  the 
rudiments  of  his  education,  and  laid  the  foundations 
of  that  good  taste  and  love  of  general  literature 
which  became  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  his  celeb 
rity.  When  old  enough  to  choose  a  profession  he 
fixed  upon  the  law,  the  most  attractive  of  all  in  a 
free  state,  as  opening  the  surest  path  to  distinction 
and  influence,  and  after  making  a  successful  begin 
ning  in  Philadelphia  went  to  London  and  continued 
his  studies  three  years  in  the  Temple.  The  wis 
dom  of  this  course  was  soon  manifest,  for,  returning 
to  Philadelphia  with  that  favorable  opinion  which 
the  reputation  of  having  studied  in  London  never 
failed  to  awaken  among  our  England-loving  ances- 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    371 

tors,  he  quickly  made  himself  a  position  at  the  bar, 
and  obtained  a  good  practice.  Nature,  too,  had 
done  her  part,  and  given  him  a  countenance  that 
attracted  attention  and  won  sympathy,  and  an  air 
and  figure  well  suited  to  the  graceful  and  dignified 
character  of  his  eloquence.  His  reputation  as  an 
orator  soon  brought  him  into  the  Assembly,  where 
it  was  readily  seen  that  his  talent  for  sober  business 
was  in  no  wise  inferior  to  his  talent  for  debate. 
The  dispute  with  England  was  daily  growing 
warmer  in  tone,  and  more  comprehensive  in  its 
bearings.  But  for  the  public  men  of  Philadelphia 
there  was  also  the  additional  dispute  with  the 
Proprietary,  which  has  left  such  deep  traces  in 
the  writings  of  Franklin.  Dickinson  entered 
heartily  into  them,  using  both  voice  and  pen  in 
support  of  his  opinions,  and  with  a  facility  and 
vigor  that  soon  placed  him  in  the  front  rank.  His 
first  publication  was  a  speech  upon  the  projected 
change  from  proprietary  to  royal  governments, 
which  he  opposed  as  injudicious  at  a  time  when 
their  privileges  were  so  evidently  threatened  by 
the  policy  of  the  ministry.  This  was  followed  in 
1765  by  a  pamphlet,  —  "  The  late  Regulations  re 
specting  the  British  Colonies  on  the  Continent  of 
North  America  considered";  and  to  this  pamphlet 
he  was  probably  indebted  for  his  appointment  as 
delegate  to  the  Congress  that  was  to  meet  that 
year  in  Nev»  York.  You  remember  the  resolutions 
of  that  Congress,  how  bold  and  how  firm  thev  are, 


372  LECTURE  XL  « 

and  what  an  impulse  and  direction  they  gave  to  the 
spirit  of  resistance.  It  is  no  slight  proof  of  Dickin 
son's  position  that  with  such  a  man  as  James  Otis 
in  the  Assembly  he  should  have  been  chosen  to 
draft  its  resolves.  Returning  home  with  the  addi 
tional  lustre  of  this  triumph,  he  resumed  his  labors 
at  the  bar,  keeping,  however,  in  view  the  great 
constitutional  question  in  which  all  other  questions 
were  involved.  Never,  indeed,  had  such  a  field, 
so  broad,  so  rich,  demanding  such  depth  of  investi 
gation,  and  such  soundness  of  judgment,  been 
opened  to  American  statesmen.  The  Stamp  Act, 
which  had  been  so  resolutely  opposed  on  the  conti 
nent,  had  been  submitted  to,  though  not  without 
remonstrance,  by  the  little  island  of  Barbadoes. 
But  in  instructing  their  ao;ent  in  London  to  "  lay 

O  O  %• 

[their]  complaints  before  his  Majesty  and  the 
Parliament,"  the  Committee  of  Correspondence 
had  spoken  of  the  resistance  of  their  "  fellow-sub 
jects  on  the  northern  continent  "  as  "  rebellious 
opposition  to  authority,"  and  of  the  spirit  they  were 
impelled  by,  as  "popular  fury."  Dickinson  met  the 
charge  in  a  pamphlet  entitled,  "  An  Address  to  the 
Committee  of  Correspondence  in  Barbadoes,  occa 
sioned  by  a  late  Letter  from  them  to  their  Agent 
in  London  ;  by  a  North  American  " ;  —  prefixing  as 
a  motto  a  passage  from  Shakespeare,  which,  like  so 
many  passages  of  that  great  poet,  seemed  to  tell 
the  whole  story  in  a  verse  and  a  half:  — 

"  This  word,  Kebellion,  hath  froze  them  up 
Like  fish  in  a  pond." 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    373 

"  Had  the  charge  of  rebellion,"  begins  the  Preface, 
"  been  made  by  a  private  person,  against  the  Colo 
nies  on  this  continent,  for  their  opposition  to  the 
Stamp  Act,  I  should  not  have  thought  it  worth 
answering.  But  when  it  was  made  by  men  vested 
with  a  public  character,  by  a  committee  of  corre 
spondence,  representing  two  branches  of  legislature 
in  a  considerable  government,  and  the  charge  was 
not  only  approved,  as  it  is  said,  by  those  branches, 
but  was  actually  published  to  the  world  in  news 
papers,  it  seemed  to  me  to  deserve  notice.  I  waited 
some  time,  in  hopes  of  seeing  the  cause  espoused 
by  an  abler  advocate  ;  but  being  disappointed,  I 
resolved,  favente  Deo,  to  snatch  a  little  time  from 
the  hurry  of  business,  and  to  place,  if  I  could,  the 
letter  of  those  gentlemen  to  their  agent  in  a  proper 
light." 

I  have  not  time  for  extracts,  but  I  will  read  you 
the  opening  paragraph,  it  is  so  true  a  picture  of  the 
author  himself. 

"  Gentlemen,  —  I  am  a  North  American,  and 
my  intention  is,  in  addressing  you  at  present,  to 
answer  so  much  of  a  late  letter  from  you  to  youi 
agent  in  London,  as  casts  unmerited  censure  or 
my  countrymen.  After  this  declaration,  as  you- 
entertain  such  unfavorable  sentiments  of  the  c  pop 
ular  fury '  on  this  continent,  I  presume  you  expect 
to  be  treated  with  all  the  excess  of  passion  natural 
to  a  rude  people.  You  are  mistaken.  I  am  of 
their  opinion  \vho  think  it  almost  as  infamous  to 


374  LECTURE  XL 

disgrace  a  good  cause  by  illiberal  language,  as  to 
betray  it  by  unmanly  timidity.  Complaints  may 
be  made  with  dignity;  insults  retorted  with  de 
cency,  and  violated  rights  vindicated  without 
violence  of  words." 

Full  as  this  pamphlet  is  of  the  life  and  spirit 
of  political  controversy,  there  is,  at  the  same  time, 
a  fine  literary  tone  about  it,  which  shows  that  the 
excitement  of  public  life  had  not  estranged  him 
from  his  early  masters  and  friends.  Still  more 
apparent  was  this  chastening  influence  of  literary 
culture  upon  his  next  work,  "  The  Farmer's  Let 
ters,"  published  in  1767. 

This  work  forms  an  epoch  in  the  literary  history 
of  the  Revolution.  In  no  other  publication  had 
the  question  of  taxation  been  discussed  upon  such 
broad  grounds  and  with  such  richness  and  vari 
ety  of  illustration.  The  assumed  character  of  a 
"  Pennsylvania  Farmer  "  permitted  directness  and 
simplicity  of  style,  and  the  form  of  letters  allowed 
of  repetitions  and  returns  to  the  same  point  that 
would  have  been  unbecoming  in  a  formal  discourse. 
Unencumbered  by  the  technicalities  of  professional 
reasoning,  it  was  none  the  less  faithful  to  the  spirit 
of  professional  discipline.  A  man  of  letters  might 
perhaps  have  claimed  the  author  as  one  of  his  own 
fraternity,  but  no  lawyer  could  have  read  it  with 
out  recognizing  the  habits  and  influence  of  legal 
thought.  Yet,  to  the  people  it  came  as  the  un 
studied  expression  of  the  sentiments  of  a  man  not 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.   375 

too  far  removed  from  them  to  understand  their 
feelings,  and  yet  so  much  better  informed  than 
themselves  that  they  might,  without  hazard,  accept 
him  as  a  guide.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  analyze 
these  twelve  Letters,  for  a  mere  analysis  would 
give  you  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  their  power- 
But  I  will  read  you  a  single  passage,  in  the  hope 
that  some  among  you  who  feel  curious  about  the 
means  which  our  ancestors  employed  in  working 
out  their  part  of  our  great  problem,  may  be  in 
duced  to  read  the  whole  for  yourselves. 

"  MY  DEAR  COUNTRYMEN  :  — 

"I  am  a  farmer,  settled,  after  a  variety  of  for 
tunes,  near  the  banks  of  the  river  Delaware,  in  the 
Province  of  Pennsylvania.  I  received  a  liberal 
education  and  have  been  engaged  in  the  busy 
scenes  of  life :  but  am  now  convinced,  that  a  man 
may  be  as  happy  without  bustle,  as  with  it.  My 
farm  is  small ;  my  servants  are  few,  and  good ;  I 
have  a  little  money  at  interest ;  I  wish  for  no 
more  ;  my  employment  in  my  own  affairs  is  easy ; 
and- with  a  contented,  grateful  mind,  undisturbed 
by  worldly  hopes  or  fears  relating  to  mysef,  I  am  "y 
completing  the  number  of  days  allotted  to  me  by 
Divine  goodness. 

"  Being  generally  master  of  my  time,  I  spend  a 
good  deal  of  it  in  a  library,  which  I  think  the  most 
valuable  part  of  my  small  estate ;  and  being  ac 
quainted  with  two  or  three  gentlemen  of  abilities 


376  LECTURE  XL 

and  learning,  who  honor  me  with  their  friendship, 
I  have  acquired,  I  believe,  a  greater  knowledge  in 
history,  and  the  laws  and  constitution  of  my  coun 
try,  than  is  generally  attained  by  men  of  my  class, 
many  of  them  not  being  so  fortunate  as  I  have 
been  in  the  opportunities  of  getting  information. 

"  From  my  infancy  I  was  taught  by  my  honored 
parents  to  love  humanity  and  liberty.  Inquiry  and 
experience  have  since  confirmed  my  reverence  for 
the  lessons  then  given  me,  by  convincing  me  more 
fully  of  their  truth  and  excellence.  Benevolence 
towards  mankind  excites  wishes  for  their  welfare, 
and  such  wishes  endear  the  means  of  fulfilling 
them.  These  can  be  found  in  Liberty  only,  and 
therefore  her  sacred  cause  ought  to  be  espoused  by 
every  man  on  every  occasion,  to  the  utmost  of  his 
power.  As  a  charitable,  but  poor  person  does  not 
withhold  his  mite,  because  he  cannot  relieve  all 
the  distresses  of  the  miserable,  so  should  not  any 
honest  man  suppress  his  sentiments  concerning 
freedom,  however  small  their  influence  is  likely  to 
be.  Perhaps  he  '  may  touch  some  wheel '  that  will 
have  an  effect  greater  than  he  could  reasonably 
expect. 

"  These  being  my  sentiments,  I  am  encouraged 
to  offer  you,  my  countrymen,  my  thoughts  on 
some  late  transactions,  that  appear  to  me  to  be  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  you.  Conscious  of  my 
own  defects,  I  have  waited  some  time  in  expecta 
tion  of  seeing  the  subject  treated  by  persons  much 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    377 

better  qualified  for  the  task ;  but  being  therein 
disappointed,  and  apprehensive  that  longer  delays 
will  be  injurious,  1  venture  at  length  to  request 
the  attention  of  the  public,  praying  that  these  lines 
may  be  read  with  the  same  zeal  for  the  happiness 
of  British  America  with  which  they  were  written." 

When  this  work  reached  London,  Franklin  re- 
published  it,  with  a  preface  so  characteristic  that  I 
am  sorry  I  have  not  time  to  read  it  to  you.*  In 
Paris  it  was  soon  translated,  and  coming  at  a  time 
when,  as  we  have  already  seen,  ministers  were 
beginning  to  turn  their  attention  towards  the  Col 
onies,  must  have  gone  a  great  way  towards  con 
vincing  them  that  there  were  men  among  the 
Americans  fully  able  to  appreciate  their  position 
and  defend  their  rights. 

At  home  it  was  received  not  only  with  applause 
but  with  gratitude.  "At  a  meeting  of  the  free 
holders  and  other  inhabitants  of  this  town  (Bos 
ton),  met  at  Faneuil  Hall  on  Monday,  the  24th 
inst.,"  1768,  a  committee,  on  which  we  find  the 
names  of  John  Hancock,  Samuel  Adams,  and  Jo 
seph  Warren,  reported  the  draft  of  "  a  letter  of 
thanks  "  "  to  the  ingenious  author  of  certain  patri 
otic  letters,  subscribed  A  Farmer,"  "saluting  (him) 
as  the  friend  of  Americans  and  the  common  bene 
factor  of  mankind."  "  It  is  to  you,  worthy  sir," 
they  say,  "  that  America  is  obliged  for  a  most  sea 
sonable,  sensible,  loyal,  and  vigorous  vindication  of 

*  See  Sparks's  Franklin,  Vol.  IV.  p.  256. 


378  LECTURE  XL 

her  invaded  rights  and  liberties."  Everywhere  it 
was  welcomed  as  the  voice  of  a  wise  man.  The 
strong  felt  that  they  had  gained  a  strong  ally ;  the 
weak,  that  they  had  found  a  strong  arm  to  lean 
upon.  It  met  the  doubts  of  the  wavering,  exposed 
the  sophistry  of  the  treacherous,  and,  above  all, 
enabled  the  great  body  of  the  people  to  grasp,  as  a 
conviction  founded  upon  reason  and  supported  by 
law,  the  principles  which  they  had  adopted  from 
an  instinctive  sense  of  right.  From  that  day  John 
Dickinson  became  a  leader  of  the  people.  "  Curse 
him  !  "  said  one  of  the  faint-hearted,  in  the  perilous 
December  of  1776,  "  it  was  those  '  Farmer's  Let 
ters '  of  his  that  made  all  this  trouble." 

You  would  naturally  expect  to  find  him  in  the 
Congress  of  1774  ;  and  among  the  best  state 
papers  of  that  Congress  are  the  Petition  to  the 
King,  the  Declaration  to  the  Armies,  and  the  Ad 
dress  to  the  Inhabitants  of  Quebec,  from  his  pen. 
His  pen,  too,  was  employed  in  preparing  the  last, 
petition  to  the  King,  which,  as  I  have  already 
stated,  was  carried  through  Congress  chiefly  by 
his  influence. 

But,  with  all  his  clear-sightedness,  Dickinson 
failed  to  see  that  the  time  for  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  was  come.  Of  the  right  to  break 
off  our  political  connection  with  Great  Britain  he 
had  no  doubt,  but  he  dreaded  the  consequences  of  a 
premature  severing  of  ties  which  still  had  so  strong 
a  hold  upon  the  hearts  of  the  people.  Fatal  error! 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    379 

and  for  which  he  atoned  by  losing  for  a  while  the 
confidence  of  his  fellow-citizens.  When  the  new 
elections  came,  his  name  was  dropped.  It  is  not 
true,  however,  as  Lord  Mahon  has  asserted,  upon 
the  authority  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  that  he  refused  to 
sign  the  Declaration.  Mr.  Jefferson's  memory 
failed  him  singularly  in  his  history  of  that  docu 
ment,  important  as  the  part  he  bore  in  it  was. 
And  when  he  referred  to  the  journals  of  Congress 
for  confirmation,  he  referred  unfortunately,  not  to 
the  manuscript  journals,  but  to  the  printed  edition, 
in  which  the  Congressional  editors  had  put  the 
signing,  which  did  not  take  place  till  August,  under 
the  head  of  the  resolution  of  the  4th  of  July,  —  a 
separate  and  independent  act.  By  that  resolution 
John  Hancock  set  his  name  to  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  as  President  of  Congress,  and 
Charles  Thompson  as  Secretary ;  and  this  was  the 
shape  in  which  it  first  went  out  to  the  world.  In 
August  it  was  engrossed  on  parchment,  and  then 
it  was  that  all  the  members  were  called  upon  to 
sign  it.  But  in  the  interval  some  new  elections 
had  taken  place ;  and  thus  among  the  names  you 
will  find  some  that  were  not  on  the  rolls  of  Con 
gress  when  the  act  was  passed,  and  look  in  vain 
for  the  names  of  others  who  took  an  active  part  in 
the  long  contest  which  preceded  its  passage  and 
voted  upon  the  act  itself.*  In  August,  Dickinson 

*  For  a  full  discussion  of  this   important  question  I  would 
refer  the  reader  to  "  The  Declaration  of  Independence  ;  or,  Notes 


380  LECTURE  XL 

was  no  longer  in  Congress,  but  —  and  all  honor  to 
his  memory  for  the  manly  deed  —  he,  the  rich 
man,  the  man  of  delicate  and-  refined  habits,  still 
hardly  second  among  the  leaders  of  our  councils, 
was  with  the  army  in  New  Jersey,  at  the  head  of 
a  regiment  of  militia. 

In  1779  he  was  again  returned  to  Congress,  and 
again  assisted  with  his  pen  in  the  preparation  of 
those  state  papers  which  still  hold  their  place 
among  the  noblest  monuments  of  American  intel 
lect.  The  magnanimity  with  which  he  had  atoned 
for  his  brief  error  of  1776  was  rewarded  by  a  full 
return  of  public  confidence.  He  was  successively 
President  of  Delaware  and  of  Pennsylvania  ;  he 
again  found  himself  by  the  side  of  Washington 
and  Franklin  in  the  convention  which  gave  us  our 
noble  Constitution ;  and  he  used  his  pen  to  explain 
and  defend  it,  under  the  signature  of  Fabius,  as  he 
had  used  it  twenty  years  before  to  explain  and 
defend  the  rights  of  the  Colonies  under  the  sig 
nature  of  a  Pennsylvania  Farmer.  Again,  too,  in 
1797,  he  re-entered  the  field  of  political  discussion 
to  examine  the  delicate  question  of  our  relations 
with  France.  Eleven  more  years  were  granted 
him  to  behold  the  rapid  growth  and  marvellous 

on  Lord  Mahon's  History  of  the  American  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence,"  by  Peter  Force,  — darum  et  venerabile  nomen,  —  which 
I  cannot  write  without  recording  my  protest  against  the  unjusti 
fiable  suspension  of  the  "American  Archives,"  —  the  greatest 
monument  ever  erected  by  a  nation  to  its  own  history. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLTUION.    381 

prosperity  of  the  State  by  whose  cradle  he  had 
watched  so  faithfully,  and  then  in  his  quiet  home 
at  Wilmington,  surrounded  by  friends  who  loved 
and  honored  him,  he  went  calmly  to  his  rest  on 
the  14th  of  February,  1808. 

No  two  men  could  have  been  more  unlike  than 
John  Dickinson  and  John  Adams ;  no  two  men 
more  sure  to  come  into  collision  almost  as  soon  as 
they  came  into  contact.  But,  as  a  writer,  Adams's 
place  is  next  to  Dickinson  for  the  influence  which 
he  exercised  over  large  masses.  Like  Dickinson's, 
also,  his  writings  are  chiefly  argumentative,  start 
ing  from  a  solid  groundwork  of  constitutional  law, 
and  fortified  by  collateral  aids  from  the  law  of 
nature  and  of  nations.  But  there  is  a  vehemence 
in  Adams  which  contrasts  strongly  with  the  gentle 
flow  of  Dickinson's  periods,  and  a  self-reliance  bor 
dering  at  times  on  arrogance.  His  strength  is 
often  the  strength  of  an  ardent  nature  rather  than 
the  vigor  of  a  powerful  intellect.  He  often  grap 
ples  boldly  with  a  subject  without  pausing  to 
examine  his  means,  and  leaves  upon  the  mind  the 
impression  of  a  thing  earnestly  begun  and  eagerly 
pursued,  but  not  revolved  with  that  patient  and 
laborious  investigation  which  is  essential  to  the 
full  mastery  of  a  complex  question.  Upon  impor 
tant  subjects,  and  when  men's  minds  were  already 
excited  by  an  existing  or  an  impending  danger,  he 
would  be  read  eagerly ;  but  in  calmer  times,  his 
negligence,  unredeemed  by  grace  ;  his  roughness, 


382  LECTURE  XI. 

not  always  atoned  for  by  vigor ;  and  his  hasty 
aggregation  of  materials  which  require  a  system 
atic  and  artistic  arrangement  to  give  them  life  and 
interest,  will  always  prevent  him  from  taking  the 
place  which,  with  a  little  more  respect  for  others 
and  a  little  less  confidence  in  himself,  he  might 
easily  have  taken  among  the  masters  of  political 
wisdom. 

It  is  impossible  to  think  of  Adams,  either  as  a 
writer  or  as  a  statesman,  without  soon  thinking 
of  Jefferson.  Like  his  great  opponent,  Jefferson's 
own  character  is  deeply  impressed  upon  his  writ 
ings.  You  recognize  in  the  easier,  livelier,  more 
equable  flow  of  his  periods,  a  richer,  more  pleasure- 
seeking,  and  genial  nature.  You  perceive  in  the 
more  varied  and  harmonious  structure  of  his  sen 
tences  the  traces  of  a  musical  sense  carefully  and 
lovingly  cultivated  as  a  source  of  keen  enjoyment. 
There  is  a  quickness  in  his  perceptions,  which  is 
faithfully  reflected  in  the  rapid  movement  of  his 
general  style  ;  and  at  times,  as  in  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  a  grave  and  solemn  earnestness, 
rising  in  parts  into  that  sober  eloquence  which  is 
the  natural  language  of  conviction.  Jefferson  was 
a  scholar  of  a  wide  range,  loving  language,  science, 
natural  history,  political  speculation.  But,  as  you 
read  him,  you  receive  the  impression  of  versatility 
rather  than  of  depth,  of  vivacity  rather  than  of 
power,  of  activity  rather  than  of  serious  thought. 
You  are  entertained,  interested  ;  you  get  now  and 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    383 

then  new  views  of  familiar  things,  new  suggestions 
which  awaken  curiosity,  and  please  by  the  im 
pression  of  novelty ;  but  the  imagination  and  the 
heart  remain  cold,  reason  is  seldom  stimulated  to 
great  efforts,  and  you  leave  him  rather  with  an 
increased  aversion  to  error  than  a  warmer  love  and 
deeper  reverence  for  truth.  But  Jefferson's  con 
tributions  to  the  literature  of  the  Revolution  were 
few.  He  was  neither  a  controversialist  nor  an 
orator,  and  his  brief  Congressional  career  afforded 
him  few  opportunities  for  distinguishing  himself 
by  his  pen.  His  one  great  work  was  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence,  now,  more  evidently  than 
ever  before,  a  work  for  all  ages. 

Of  John  Jay,  also,  it  may  truly  be  said  that  the 
style  is  the  man.  Dignity,  sobriety,  the  distinct 
ness  of  a  sound  reason  and  the  warmth  of  a  strong 
conviction,  are  the  characteristics  of  his  state  pa 
pers  as  they  were  the  characteristics  of  his  mind. 
Sometimes,  too,  that  warmth  rises  to  a  solemn  elo 
quence.  I  have  time  but  for  one  example,  and  I 
take  it  from  the  circular  letter  of  1779  which  I 
have  already  quoted  in  my  Lecture  upon  the  Fi 
nances  of  the  Revolution.  The  object  of  the  let 
ter,  you  will  remember,  was  to  justify  the  conduct 
of  Congress  with  regard  to  emissions  of  paper,  and 
enforce  the  necessity  of  fulfilling  the  engagements 
it  had  made  in  the  name  of  the  people. 

"  Humanity  as  well  as  justice  make  this  demand 
upon  you.  The  complaints  of  ruined  widows  and 


384  LECTURE  XL 

the  cries  of  fatherless  children  whose  whole  sup 
port  has  been  placed  in  your  hands  and  melted 
away,  have  doubtless  reached  you ;  take  care  that 
they  ascend  no  higher" 

I  will  not  go  to  Pagan  eloquence  for  a  parallel 
to  this,  for  the  force  of  it  depends  upon  the  force 
of  our  Christian  convictions,  —  upon  our  enjoined 
recognition  of  God  as  the  God  of  the  fatherless 
children  and  the  widow.  But  has  Bossuet  a 
nobler  passage  ?  Or  compare  it  rather  with  the 
opening  sentence  of  Massillon's  funeral  oration  on 
the  "  Great  Louis,"  —  "  Dieu  seul  est  grand,  mes 
freres,  —  God  alone  is  great,  my  brethren,"  — 
and  weighing  well  all  the  circumstances,  tell  me 
which  gains  most  by  the  comparison  ? 

We  are  so  accustomed  to  think  of  Alexander 
Hamilton  as  the  confidential  aid  of  Washington 
during  the  war  and  the  principal  author  of  the 
the  Federalist  after  it,  that  we  are  apt  to  for 
get  that  he  began  his  brilliant  career  by  two  re 
markable  pamphlets,  one  written  in  1774  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  and  the  other  in  1775 ;  and  that  in 
1781  he  wrote  the  Continentalist.  The  object 
of  the  pamphlet  was  to  defend  the  action  of  the 
Continental  Congress  against  the  attacks  of  "  A 
West  Chester  Farmer";  and  he  does  it  with  a 
combination  of  argument,  learning,  and  wit  never 
equalled  by  a  boy,  and  seldom  surpassed  by  a 
man.  The  object  of  the  Continentalist  was  to  de 
monstrate  the  insufficiency  of  the  powers  of  the 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    385 

Confederation,  and  prepare  the  public  mind  for 
enlarging  them.  Although  not  extended  beyond 
six  numbers,  it  is  a  foreshadowing,  if  not  a  direct 
annunciation,  of  the  Constitution,  and  of  its  best 
exponent,  "  The  Federalist."  All  of  these  works 
display  the  marvellous  precocity  of  Hamilton's 
mind  and  the  easy  vigor  of  his  pen.  It  seems 
strange  to  find,  a  boy  of  seventeen  writing  with 
such  evident  familiarity  about  Grotius  and  Puffen- 
dorff,  and  urging  home  upon  his  antagonist  the 
unconscious  accordance  of  his  fundamental  axioms 
with  the  godless  theory  of  Hobbes.  And  it  seems 
equally  strange  to  find  that  this  maturity  of  thought 
never  checks  the  vivacity  of  his  style,  and  that  the 
style  never  falls  below  the  dignity  of  the  subject. 

But  the  most  important  channel  of  Hamilton's 
influence  as  a  writer  from  1777  to  1781  was 
through  Washington's  official  correspondence ;  in 
which  it  is  as  impossible  to  deny  that  he  bore  an 
important  part  as  to  deny  that  the  similarity  of 
tone  and  thought  which  pervade  it  from  the  begin 
ning  to  the  end  of  Washington's  life,  prove  the 
importance  of  the  part  which  he  also  took  in  the 
preparation  of  the  documents  that  bear  his  sig 
nature. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  effect  produced  by 
the  writings  of  Otis  and  Quincy.  I  do  not  care 
to  speak  of  Thomas  Paine,  although  his  "  Common 
Sense  "  came  out  at  a  propitious  moment,  and  con 
tributed  materially  to  prepare  the  general  mind  for 
17  Y 


386  LECTURE  XI. 

the  Declaration  of  Independence.  But  when  he 
wrote  it  he  had  not  been  long  enough  in  America 
to  receive  any  definite  impression  from  the  Amer 
ican  mind,  and  I  cheerfully  relinquish  to  his  native 
island  all  the  honor  that  belongs  to  the  birthplace 
of  such  a  son.  Of  Hopkinson,  whose  prose  displays 
much  of  the  playful  vivacity  which  distinguishes 
his  verse,  of  Samuel  Adams,  who  wrote  many  of 
the  best  state  papers  of  Massachusetts,  of  Living 
ston,  and  Richard  Henry  Lee,  who  wrote  some  of 
the  most  important  state  papers  of  Congress,  and 
of  many  others  who  contributed  by  letters  and 
pamphlets  and  state  papers  of  local  legislatures  to 
the  formation  and  guidance  of  public  opinion,  it  is 
impossible  to  speak  at  large  in  a  single  lecture. 
History  has  not  yet  done  full  justice  to  their  labors, 
nor  can  I  see  without  a  feeling  of  humiliation  and 
painful  regret,  that  a  press  which  seizes  so  eagerly 
upon  the  journal  of  Semmes  and  the  life  of  Stone 
wall  Jackson,  which  pours  out  so  lavishly  the 
ephemeral  productions  of  the  American  mind,  and 
reproduces  so  cheerfully  productions  of  the  English 
mind  that  do  us  no  service  either  practically  as 
men  and  citizens  or  speculatively  as  students  and 
lovers  of  the  good,  the  beautiful,  and  the  true, 
should  permit  these  precious  legacies  of  our  fathers 
to  lie  buried  and  forgotten  in  pamphlets  almost 
inaccessible  from  their  rarity  and  newspapers  al 
most  illegible  from  moth-holes  and  faded  ink. 
How  many  of  the  bitterest  tears  of  the  present 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    387 

might  we  have  been   spared   by  a  timely  study 
of  the  past! 

For  the  newspaper  press,  which  is  too  broad  a 
field  for  discussion  within  my  narrow  limits,  I  must 
refer  you  to  Frank  Moore's  admirable  selections 
under  the  title  of  "  Diary  of  the  Revolution." 

Of  the  debates  in  Congress  we  have  but  few  and 
imperfect  specimens ;  but  all  tradition  agrees  in  at 
tributing  to  Patrick  Henry  a  fiery  vehemence  that 
seemed  at  times  like  inspiration ;  elaborate  and 
polished  concision  to  Richard  Henry  Lee,  argu 
mentative  vigor  to  John  Adams,  persuasive  elo 
quence  to  John  Dickinson,  and  in  various  degrees 
many  of  the  higher  characteristics  of  eloquence  to 
Jay,  and  Rutledge,  and  Mifflin,  and  Gouverneur 
Morris. 

If  there  was  less  of  eloquence  in  the  pulpit,  there 
was  fervor,  earnestness,  and  fearless  patriotism. 
Men  were  not  afraid  of  giving  utterance  on  Sun 
day  .to  the  hopes  that  had  mingled  with  their  week 
day  prayers.  They  were  not  afraid  to  rebuke  sin 
in  the  garb  of  state  craft  and  policy,  even  at  the 
risk  of  bringing  politics  into  the  pulpit.  They  did 
not  fear  to  say  that  the  qualities  that  make  bad  citi 
zens  make  bad  Christians  also ;  that  the  traitor  to 
his  country  is  a  traitor  to  his  God.  This  was  their 
faith.  They  proclaimed  it  on  Sunday,  they  lived 
it  in  their  daily  lives.  Bible  in  hand  they  followed 
their  flocks  to  the  camp,  toiled  with  them  through 
weary  marches,  preached  to  them  with  drum-heads 


388  LECTURE  XI. 

for  a  pnlpit,  prayed  with  them  on  the  battle-field, 
held  the  cooling  draught  to  the  lips  of  the  wound 
ed,  and  soothed,  amid  the  roar  of  the  conflict,  the 
fainting  spirits  of  the  dying. 

We  are  proud,  and  justly  proud,  of  the  Congress 
and  the  army,  the  statesmen  and  the  generals  of 
our  Revolution,  and  close  by  their  sides  stand  the 
patriot  preachers. 


LECTURE    XII. 

LITERATURE   OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

PART  H.  — POETRY. 

WE  saw  in  our  last  Lecture  that  the  prose 
literature  of  the  Revolution  was  peculiarly 
a  literature  of  reasoning  and  discussion.  If  I  were 
to  attempt  to  characterize  the  poetical  literature  of 
the  Revolution  I  should  call  it  a  literature  of  sylla 
bles  and  rhymes.  As  a  general  rule,  every  noun  has 
its  adjective,  every  object  its  epithet,  and  through 
the  mist  of  accumulated  attributes  you  are  often  at 
a  loss  for  the  real  character  of  the  subject  to  which 
they  are  applied.  The  lines  are  generally  correct, 
the  number  of  syllables  is  complete,  the  caesura 
falls  in  the  right  place,  there  is  often  thought, 
sometimes  feeling,  not  unfrequently  harmony  and 
movement,  but  there  is  neither  fancy  nor  imagi 
nation,  and  therefore  no  true  poetry.  Yet  this 
period  produced  two  epics,  and  elegies,  odes,  epis 
tles,  and  occasional  verses  without  number.  Bar 
low  is  called  "  the  child  of  genius  "  ;  Dwight,  "  the 
blessed"  ;  Trumbull,  "  the  earliest  boast  of  fame." 
And  for  a  long  while  no  one  seems  to  have  doubted 


390  LECTURE  XII. 

the  claims  of  American  poetry,  any  more  than  he 
doubted  the  claims  of  American  enterprise. 

Nor  was  English  poetry  much  better  off  in  her 
native  island.  Goldsmith,  it  is  true,  had  put 
enough  of  it  into  "  The  Traveller "  and  "  The 
Deserted  Village  "  to  redeem  a  whole  generation 
of  Pyes  and  Hayleys ;  and  Cowper  was  just  pre 
paring  to  lead  back  the  public  taste  to  the  paths  of 
pure  feeling  and  natural  expression,  from  which  it 
had  wandered  so  far  and  so  long.*  But  with  more 
than  half  that  was  published  and  read  as  poetry  in 
England,  the  verses  of  D wight,  and  Barlow,  and 
Humphreys,  might  have  been  freely  compared 
without  losing  by  the  comparison. 

It  would  be  great  injustice  to  the  memory  of  an 
eminent  man,  if  I  were  to  pass  by  the  name  of 
Timothy  D  wight  without  alluding  to  his  great  ser 
vices  as  a  teacher,  able  to  point  out  paths  which 
he  was  unable  to  tread,  and  a  scholar,  able  to 
enjoy  beauties  which  he  was  unable  to  imitate. 
A  native  of  Massachusetts,  where  he  was  born 
in  1752,  he  passed  the  chief  of  his  life  in  Connect 
icut,  where  he  died  as  President  of  Yale  College 
in  1817.  Wondrous  things  are  told  of  the  pre 
cocity  of  his  mind,  and  the  marvels  of  his  mem 
ory.  He  could  dictate  to  three  secretaries  at  a 
time,  and  preserve  unbroken  and  distinct  the  flow 
of  each  separate  train  of  thought.  He  tilled  his 
farm  with  his  own  hands,  keeping  school,  and 

*  "The  Task"  was  published  in  1784. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    391 

preaching,  writing  prose  and  poetry,  theology, 
and  an  epic,  and  all  without  permitting  one  task 
to  interfere  with  another.  His  pupils  looked  up  to 
him  with  somewhat  of  the  veneration  with  which 
Boswell  looked  up  to  Johnson,  and  if  tradition  may 
be  trusted  he  was  not  unwilling  to  be  thought 
Johnson's  equal  in  the  conduct  of  an  argument, 
or  the  power  of  dictating  to  a  social  circle.  It  was 
to  him  and  his  friend  Trumbull  that  Yale  College 
was  indebted  for  an  enlargement  of  its  course  of 
study,  and  the  introduction  of  a  purer  literary 
taste,  and  through  Yale,  a  large  portion  of  the 
young  men  of  the  first  period  of  our  history  as 
a  united  people. 

Dwight's  hopes  of  poetical  fame  were  chiefly 
founded  upon  "  The  Conquest  of  Canaan,"  an  epic, 
with  Joshua  for  a  hero,  and  all  the  defects  and  few 
of  the  beauties  of  the  style  used  by  Pope  in  his 
translation  of  the  Iliad.  It  was  the  production 
of  his  youth,  which,  however,  when  we  remem 
ber  that  Tasso  began  the  Jerusalem  at  twenty, 
will  hardly  serve  as  an  excuse  for  its  uniform  dul- 
ness  and  resolute  mediocrity.  u  Greenfield  Hill," 
though  defective  in  plan,  is  far  more  felicitous  in 
execution,  and  parts  of  it  may  be  read  with  pleas 
ure  even  now.  It  is  from  this,  although  it  was  not 
written  till  after  the  close  of  the  war,  that  I  select 
a  passage,  both  as  showing  Dwight's  powers  of 
versification  with  an  acknowledged  model  before 
him,  and  as  illustrating  the  view  which,  in  common 


392  LECTURE  XII. 

with  the  greater  part  of  his  contemporaries,  he  took 
of  slavery. 

"  But  hark !  what  voice  so  gayly  fills  the  wind  ? 
Of  care  oblivious,  whose  that  laughing  mind  ? 
'T  is  yon  poor  black,  who  ceases  now  his  song, 
And  whistling,  drives  the  cumbrous  wain  along 

Kindly  fed,  and  clad,  and  treated,  he 
Slides  on,  through  life,  with  more  than  common  glee. 
For  here  mild  manners  good  to  all  impart, 
And  stamp  with  infamy  th'  unfeeling  heart ; 
Here  Law  from  vengeful  rage  the  slave  defends, 
And  here  the  Gospel  peace  on  earth  extends. 

"  He  toils,  't  is  true,  but  shares  his  master's  toil ; 
With  him  he  feeds  the  herd,  and  trims  the  soil ; 
Helps  to  sustain  the  house  with  clothes  and  food, 
And  takes  his  portion  of  the  common  good. 
Lost  liberty,  his  sole,  peculiar  ill, 
And  fixed  submission  to  another's  will. 
Ill,  ah,  how  great !  without  that  cheering  sun, 
The  world  is  changed  to  one  wide  frigid  zone : 
The  mind,  a  chilled  exotic,  cannot  grow, 
Nor  leaf  with  vigor,  nor  with  promise  blow ; 
Pale,  sickly,  shrunk,  it  strives  in  vain  to  rise, 
Scarce  lives  while  living,  and  untimely  dies. 
See  fresh  to  life  the  Afric  infant  spring, 
And  plume  its  powers,  and  spread  its  little  wing ! 
Firm  is  its  frame,  and  vigorous  is  its  mind, 
Too  young  to  think,  and  yet  to  misery  blind. 
But  soon  he  sees  himself  to  slavery  born  ; 
Soon  meets  the  voice  of  power,  the  eye  of  scorn ; 
Sighs  for  the  blessings  of  his  peers,  in  vain, 
Conditioned  as  a  brute,  though  formed  a  man. 
Around  he  casts  his  fond,  instinctive  eyes, 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    393 

And  sees  no  good,  to  fill  his  wishes,  rise ; 
(No  motive  warms  with  animating  beam, 
Nor  praise,  nor  property,  nor  kind  esteem, 
Blessed  independence  on  his  native  ground, 
Nor  sweet  equality  with  those  around ;) 
Himself  and  his,  another's  shrinks  to  find, 
Levelled  below  the  lot  of  human  kind, 
Thus,  shut  from  honor's  paths,  he  turns  to  shame, 
And  filches  the  small  good  he  cannot  claim. 
To  sour  and  stupid,  sinks  his  active  mind, 
Finds  joys  in  drink,  he  cannot  elsewhere  find  ; 
Rule  disobeys ;  of  half  his  labor  cheats ; 
In  some  safe  cot,  the  pilfered  turkey  eats ; 
Rides  hard,  by  night,  the  steed,  his  art  purloins ; 
Serene  from  conscience'  bar  himself  essoins; 
Sees  from  himself  his  sole  redress  must  flow, 
And  makes  revenge  the  balsam  of  his  woe."  * 

Of  Joel  Barlow,  who  was  born  in  1755  and  died 
in  1812,  it  behooves  us  to  remember  that  while  he 
pursued  his  studies  at  college  during  term  time,  he 
served  in  the  ranks  as  a  volunteer  during  vacation. 
Thus  he  fought  at  the  White  Plains,  and  was  an 
actor  in  some  of  the  scenes  which  he  afterwards 
attempted  to  describe.  Having  completed  his  col 
lege  course,  he  returned  to  the  army  awhile  as 
chaplain,  and  from  time  to  time,  like  his  friends 
Trumbull  and  Dwight,  composed  camp  songs  for 
the  soldiers.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten  that  his 
lonely  death  in  an  obscure  Polish  village  was 
brought  on  by  exposure  in  the  service  of  his 
country.  If  not  a  great  poet,  he  was  a  good, 

*  Part  II.  p.  36 
17* 


394  LECTURE  XII. 

loyal  citizen,  conscious  of  the  high  privileges  which 
his  citizenship  gave  him,  and  willing  to  die  for 
them.  Let  us  speak  tenderly  of  the  poetic  short 
comings  of  a  worthy  man. 

By  his  contemporaries  he  was  regarded  as  a  man 
of  genius.  Jefferson  thought  him  the  best  prose 
writer  of  his  time.  How  much  was  expected  from 
him  as  a  poet  David  Humphreys  tells  us  in  a  letter 
to  General  Greene,  announcing  "  The  Vision  of 
Columbus  "  as  a  work  of  the  highest  order,  which 
some  wealthy  citizens  of  New  Haven  were  about 
to  give  the  young  poet  the  means  of  completing 
at  his  ease.* 

It  was  not,  however,  till  eight  years  after  this 
letter  was  written  that  the  poem  made  its  appear 
ance  in  a  modest  duodecimo,  with  a  full  list  of  sub 
scribers,  among  whom  we  find  the  names  of  "  His 
Most  Christian  Majesty  for  twenty-five  copies,  and 
His  Excellency  George  Washington,  Esq.,  for 
twenty  copies."  General  Greene's  would  doubtless 
ha"  "e  been  there  also,  but  he  had  already  been 
lying  two  years  in  his  unknown  grave.  The  title 
tells  as  much  of  the  plan  of  the  poem  as  can  well 
be  told  without  rehearsing  the  table  of  contents ; 
and  its  title,  suggesting,  as  it  immediately  does,  the 
idea  of  a  history  in  rhyme,  carries  condemnation 
with  it.  I  will  give  you  a  few  specimens,  trying 
to  do  the  author  full  justice  in  my  selection.  The 

*  David  Humphreys  to  General  Greene.  New  Haven,  April 
10,  17SO.  Greene  Papers,  MS. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    305 

opening  lines  are  not  without  a  certain  grave  har 
mony  which  reminds  you  of  greater  poets. 

"Long  had  the  sage,  the  first  who  dared  to  brave 
The  unknown  dangers  of  the  western  wave, 
Who  taught  mankind  where  future  empires  lay 
In  these  fair  confines  of  descending  .day, 
With  cares  o'erwhelmed,  in  life's  distressing  gloom, 
Wished  from  a  thankless  world  a  peaceful  tomb  ; 
While  kings  and  nations  envious  of  his  name 
Enjoyed  his  labors  and  usurped  his  fame, 
And  gave  the  chief,  from  promised  empire  hurled, 
Chains  for  a  crown,  a  prison  for  a  world. 

"  Now  night  and  silence  held  their  lonely  reign, 
The  half-orbed  moon  declining  to  the  main ; 
Descending  clouds  o'er  varying  ether  driven, 
Obscured  the  stars  and  shut  the  eye  from  heaven ; 
Cold  mists  through  opening  grates  the  cell  invade, 
And  death-like  terrors  haunt  the  midnight  shade ; 
When  from  a  visionary,  short  repose, 
That  raised  new  cares  and  tempered  keener  woes, 
Columbus  woke,  and  to  the  walls  addressed 
The  deep  felt  sorrows  of  his  manly  breast." 

I  pass  over  the  earlier  periods  of  our  history. 
There  is  nothing  in  his  treatment  of  them  to  re 
ward  the  labor  of  an  extract.  But  you  will  be 
curious  to  see  how  far  the  Muse  smiles  upon  him 
when  he  undertakes  to  paint  scenes  which  he  had 
witnessed  and  men  whom  he  had  known. 

"  Where  dread  Monmouth  lifts  a  frowning  height 
Parading  armies  cast  a  glaring  light, 
Then  strode  the  British  Clinton  o'er  the  field, 
And  marshalled  hosts  for  ready  combat  held. 


390  LECTURE  XII. 

As  the  dim  sun,  beneath  the  skirts  of  even, 
Crimsons  the  clouds  that  sail  the  western  heaven ; 
So,  in  red  wavy  rows,  where  spread  the  train 
Of  men  and  standards,  shone  the  fateful  plain. 

"  But  now  dread  Washington  arose  in  sight, 
And  the  long  ranks  rolled  forward  to  the  fight : 
He  points  the  charge,  the  mounted  thunders  roar, 
And  plough  the  plain,  and  rock  the  distant  shore. 
Above  the  folds  of  smoke  that  veiled  the  war, 
His  guiding  sword  illumed  the  fields  of  air; 
The  volleyed  flames  that  burst  along  the  plain, 
Break  the  deep  clouds,  and  show  the  piles  of  slain ; 
Till  flight  begins ;  the  smoke  is  rolled  away 
And  the  red  standards  open  into  day. 
Britons  and  Germans  hurry  from  the  field, 
Now  wrapped  in  dust,  and  now  to  sight  revealed ; 
Behind,  great  Washington  his  falchion  drives, 
Thins  the  pale  ranks,  and  copious  vengeance  gives. 
Hosts  captive  bow  and  move  behind  his  arm 
And  hosts  before  him  wing  the  driven  storm ; 
When  the  glad  shore  salutes  their  fainting  sight, 
And  thundering  navies  screen  their  rapid  flight."  * 

There  are  better  verses  than  these  in  the  Vision, 
but  none  more  characteristic,  except,  perhaps,  the 
characters  of  Trumbull,  D wight,  and  Humphreys, 
at  the  end  of  the  seventh  book. 

It  is  easy  to  see  where  the  weakness  of  these 
verses  lies.  Barlow  never  writes  with  "his  eye 
on  the  object,"  and  therefore  never  tells  us  what 
is  actually  seen ;  never  writes  with  his  thoughts 
fixed  upon  his  own  emotions,  and  therefore  never 
tells  what  is  actually  felt.  Instead  of  this  lie  gives 
*  Book  VI.  ill. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    397 

us  words  wrought  into  sonorous  verses,  which  fill 
the  ear,  but  fail  to  reach  the  mind  as  the  repre 
sentatives  of  real  perceptions  or  real  feeling.  His 
heroes  and  scenes  float  before  you  as  vague  and 
formless  as  the  ghosts  of  Ossian ;  and  like  Ossian, 
whom  he  seems  to  have  studied  more  than  Homer, 
he  bewilders  you  by  a  succession  of  indistinct  con 
ceptions,  which,  having  no  definite  shape  in  his 
own  mind,  leave  no  clear  image  in  yours. 

He  has  no  creative  imagination  to  invest  objects 
and  characters  with  a  living  interest,  —  no  play  of 
fancy  to  relieve  the  monotonous  uniformity  of  cata 
logue  and  description ;  and,  moreover,  the  grandeur 
of  the  subject  bewilders  and  oppresses  him.  You 
look  for  a  poem,  and  you  find  a  geography,  a  chron 
icle,  and  a  rhapsody  of  political  speculation.  The 
greatest  of  poets  might  have  failed  with  such  a 
subject.  Barlow  was  not  a  great  poet,  and  per 
haps  the  severest  censure  that  can  be  passed  upon 
him  is,  that  he  knew  so  little  of  his  own  strength, 
and  had  formed  so  imperfect  a  conception  of  the 
true  nature  of  poetry  as  to  attempt  to  construct  a 
poem  out  of  such  materials.  He  afterwards  re 
turned  to  the  task  again,  and  enlarged  "  The  Vis 
ion  of  Columbus  "  into  "  The  Columbiad."  But  it 
gained  nothing  by  the  expansion.  If  you  would 
see  Barlow  at  his  best,  read  "  Hasty  Pudding," 
for  there  he  does  sing  the  "  sweets  he  knows  and 
the  charms  he  feels." 

David  Humphreys,   the   friend  whose   glowing 


31)8  LECTURE  XII. 

anticipations  of  Barlow's  success  I  have  alluded  to, 
was  also  a  poet  in  the  sense  which  that  ill-used 
word  is  so  often  made  to  bear.  He  wrote  with 
ease  verses  that  rhymed  well  and  flowed  smoothly, 
and,  putting  a  fair  measure  of  thought  into  them, 
was  read  and  praised  by  his  contemporaries.  Few 
poets,  too,  have  had  a  wider  range  of  personal 
experience  than  he,  and  of  that  kind  of  experience 
which  is  most  easily  woven  into  poetry.  He  was 
born  in  Connecticut  in  those  Colonial  days  which 
afford  such  attractive  scenes  of  rural  life,  —  when 
towns  and  villages  were  little  more  than  condensed 
farms,  every  man  knowing  all  the  inhabitants,  and 
all  uniting  in  harvestings,  and  huskings,  and  cider- 
makings, —  when  quiltings  were  the  joyous  gather 
ings  of  matrons  and  maidens,  and  winter  firesides 
were  thrilled  by  stories  of  Indian  wars,  or  charmed 
by  descriptions  of  home.*  His  school  and  college 
days  were  the  days  of  discussion  ripening  into 
revolution,  which  gave  a  living  interest  to  every 
lesson  that  he  read  in  the  history  of  the  old  repub 
lics.  The  war  found  him  in  a  quiet  retreat  on  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson,  where  Nature  is  loveliest, 
and  where,  not  many  years  afterwards,  she  re 
vealed  so  much  to  Washington  Irving  that  she 
never  revealed  to  him.  From  this  life  of  seclusion 
lie  passed  to  the  life  of  camps :  was  Putnam's  aid 
in  1778,  and  lived  on  so  friendly  a  footing  with 
the  old  man  that  he  learned  to  look  upon  him  as  a 

*  A  word  which  in  Colonial  parlance  meant  England. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    399 

father ;  was  Greene's  aid  for  a  short  time ;  was 
Washington's  aid  from  1780  to  the  end  of  the  war, 
receiving  a  sword  from  Congress  for  gallant  ser 
vices  at  Yorktown,  and  won  so  largely  of  Wash 
ington's  esteem  that  that  man  of  few  professions 
wrote  him,  in  1784,  "  I  shall  hold  in  pleasing  re 
membrance  the  friendship  and  intimacy  which 
have  subsisted  between  us,  and  shall  neglect  no 
opportunity  on  my  part  to  cultivate  and  improve 
them."  '  Next  he  went  to  Paris  as  Secretary  for 
the  Commission  of  Treaties,  with  Jefferson  for  his 
principal,  and  Kosciusko  for  shipmate  ;  returned  to 
become  a  legislator,  to  write  "  The  Anarchiad  "  at 
Hartford,  with  Trumbull,  Barlow,  and  Hopkins  ; 
to  write  a  Life  of  Putnam  at  Mount  Vernon,  with 
Washington  for  a  daily  companion  ;  then  crossed 
the  Atlantic  again,  and  was  Minister  at  Lisbon  ; 
and  crossing  it  still  another  time,  was  Minister  to 
Spain,  and  negotiated  treaties  with  Tripoli  and  Al 
giers.  And  devoting  his  last  as  his  first  years  to 
the  good  of  his  country,  and  mingling  private  with 
public  activity,  he  accepted  in  1812  the  command 
of  the  militia  of  Connecticut,  superintending  the 
while,  on  his  own  land,  the  breed  of  merino  sheep 
which  he  had  been,  if  not  the  first,  one  of  the  first 
to  introduce  into  the  United  States.  Death,  which 
had  so  often  passed  him  by  on  the  battle-field,  came 
to  him  suddenly  in  1818,  at  the  age  of  sixty-five. 

*  The  whole  letter  is  worth  reading,  as  an   illustration  of 
Washington  the  man.     Sparks's  Washington,  Vol.  IX.  p.  C. 


400  LECTURE  XII. 

Yet  he  passed  through  all  these  scenes,  and 
wrote  long  poems  about  some  of  them,  without 
perceiving  in  what  their  poetry  consisted,  or  leav 
ing  a  single  picture  which  posterity  can  go  to  for 
vigor  of  outline  or  fidelity  of  detail.  Nature  had 
denied  him  the  power  of  looking  into  his  own 
heart  as  the  poet  who  would  touch  other  hearts" 
must  look,*  or  of  discerning  in  the  forms  of  exter 
nal  life,  which  lie  open  to  every  eye,  the  secrets 
which  no  eye  but  the  poet's  can  discern,  and  no 
mind  but  the  poet's  interpret.  Like  Barlow,  he 
could  not  see  objects  as  they  really  were,  nor  tell 
in  direct  and  simple  language  what  he  had  really 
seen.  What  lifelike  portraits  ought  we  not  to 
have  had  of  Washington,  and  Greene,  and  Wayne, 
and  Knox,  and  Putnam,  from  one  who  had  seen 
them  and  talked  with  them  daily  through  the 
most  important  years  of  their  lives  and  his  own. 
Yet  they  come  before  us  like  the  lay -figures  of  the 
artist,  posed,  draped,  and  lifeless.  What  scenes 
the  summer  march  and  winter  encampment  might 
have  suggested  to  the  true  poet !  but  in  the  verses 
of  Humphreys  all  the  distinctive  characteristics 
are  overlaid  by  epithets  or  lost  in  vague  general 
ities.  It  is  a  thing  I  can  never  think  of  without 
pain,  that  a  man  who  loved  his  country  so  much 
and  served  her  so  well,  who  saw  so  much  that  we 

*  "  Look,  then,  into  thine  heart,  and  write ! 
Yes,  into  Life's  deep  stream !  " 

LONGFELLOW,  Prelude  to  Voices  of  the  NigkT. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    401 

wish  to  know  about,  and  possessed  such  a  facility 
of  language  and  versification  for  telling  it,  should 
not  have  contented  himself  with  telling  us  just 
what  he  saw,  and  how  he  felt  as  he  saw  it. 

Of  the  six  long  poems  that  he  wrote,  and  all  of 
which,  like  all  of  his  prose,  sprang  directly  from 
the  scenes  in  which  he  was  engaged,  and  bear  wit 
ness  to  his  devotion  to  his  country,  one  only  belongs 
to  our  present  subject,  —  the  "  Address  to  the  Ar 
mies  of  America."  It  was  written  in  camp  and 
while  "  the  author  was  so  far  engaged  in  the  duties 
of  his  profession  as  to  have  but  little  leisure  for  sub 
jects  of  literature  or  amusement."  "  I  was  with 
you,  my  dear  Colonel,"  writes  his  French  transla 
tor,  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux,  "when,  after  a 
glorious  campaign,  you  composed  in  silence,  those 
elegant  verses,  wherein  you  have  displayed  the 
whole  extent  of  your  genius,  in  only  wishing  to 
express  your  patriotic  sentiments."  "  The  reader," 
says  the  Journal  de  Paris,  "  will  moreover  remark 
with  pleasure  the  contrast  which  the  author  has 
had  the  art  to  introduce,  in  a  skilful  manner,  in 
the  two  very  distinct  parts  of  his  poem.  In  the 
first  he  paints  the  dangers  which  America  expe 
rienced,  and  the  calamities  of  war  which  desolated 
her  for  so  long  a  period.  In  the  last  he  collects 
only  delightful  ideas  and  pictures  of  happiness  ;  he 
unfolds  to  America  the  auspicious  effects  of  that 
liberty  she  had  obtained,  and  the  felicity  she  is 
about  to  enjoy." 


402  LECTURE  XII. 

"  The  performance,"  says  an  English  journal,  the 
Critical  Review,  u  may  with  some  trifling  excep 
tions,  be  justly  styled  a  good  poem,  but  not  a  very 
pleasing  one  to  good  Englishmen."  And  while 
good  Englishmen  satisfied  their  curiosity  by  public 
readings  of  it,  they  pacified  their  wounded  pride  by 
claiming  the  author  as  a  countryman. 

We  must  not  forget,  however,  that  one  of  the 
causes  of  this  success  was  curiosity.  Before  the 
war  the  power  of  the  American  soil  and  climate  to 
produce  great  men  had  been  seriously  called  in 
question.  It  had  even  been  gravely  asserted  that 
under  their  influence  both  men  and  animals  soon 
fell  below  the  European  standard.  The  Revolu 
tion  had  shown  that  in  military  skill  and  statesman 
ship  this  assumption  of  an  arrogant  philosophy 
was  false.  But  was  it  equally  false  in  literature  ? 
Humphreys  published  his  "  Address,"  and  hun 
dreds  of  curious  eyes  turned  eagerly  to  it  to  see. 

The  opening  lines  are  grave  and  dignified :  — 

"  Ye  martial  bands  !  Columbia's  fairest  pride  ! 
To  toils  inured,  in  dangers  often  tried,  — 
Ye  gallant  youths!  whose  breasts  for  glory  burn, 
Each  selfish  aim  and  meaner  passion  spurn  ; 
Ye  who,  unmoved,  in  the  dread  hour  have  stood, 
And  smiled,  undaunted,  in  the  field  of  blood,  — 
Who  greatly  dared,  at  Freedom's  rapt'rous  call, 
With  her  to  triumph,  or  with  her  to  fall,  — 
Now  brighter  days  in  prospect  swift  ascend ; 
Ye  sons  of  fame,  the  hallowed  theme  attend ; 
The  past  review,  the  future  scene  explore, 
And  Heaven's  high  King  with  grateful  hearts  adore ! " 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    403 

The  "  parent  state,  a  parent  now  no  more," 
begins  hostilities,  affording  the  poet  an  occasion  for 
a  simile  in  sonorous  and  swelling  verses,  which,  at 
a  time  when  men  who  had  seen  the  moon  and 
stars  still  admired  Pope's  rendering  of  the  cele 
brated  simile  in  the  eighth  Iliad,  and  mistook  it 
for  Homer,  may  perhaps  have  been  admired  as 
nature  by  men  who  had  seen  a  thunder-storm  :  — 

"  As  when  dark  clouds  from  Andes'  towering  head, 
Roll  down  the  skies  and  round  th'  horizon  spread, 
With  thunders  fraught,  the  blackening  tempest  sails, 
And  bursts  tremendous  o'er  Peruvian  vales,  — 
So  broke  the  storm  on  Concord's  fatal  plain." 

Remember  now  what  the  real  character  of  the 
uprising  after  the  battle  of  Lexington  was  ;  remem 
ber  the  gathering  of  minute-men  ;  remember  how 
farmers  and  mechanics  dropped  their  tools,  seized 
their  guns,  and  went  forth  singly  or  in  small  bands, 
or  in  regular  companies,  crowding  the  roads  to 
Cambridge.  See  Putnam  leaving  his  plough  in 
the  furrow,  when  the  tidings  reached  him,  by  day, 
and  Greene  hurrying  off  in  the  dark  that  he  might 
be  ready  to  join  the  Kentish  Guards  in  their  march 
before  dawn ;  think  of  the  partings  on  the  thresh- 
Old?  —  of  the  mothers  and  sisters  and  wives  that 
remained  at  home,  —  and  regret  with  me  that  one 
who  was  a  witness  and  a  part  of  such  scenes  should 
have  only  told  us  that 

"  Then  the  shrill  trumpet  echoed  from  afar, 
And  sudden  blazed  the  wasting  flame  of  war ; 


404  LECTURE  XII. 

From  state  to  state,  swift  flew  the  dire  alarms, 

And  ardent  youths  impetuous  rushed  to  arms ; 

'To  arms'  the  matrons  and  the  virgins  sung, 

To  arms,  their  sires,  their  husbands,  brothers,  sprung. 

No  dull  delay,  —  where'er  the  sound  was  heard, 

Where  the  red  standard  in  the  air  appeared, 

Where  through  vast  realms  the  cannon  swelled  its  roar, 

Between  th'  Acadian  and  Floridian  shore,  — 

Now  joined  the  crowd  from  their  far-distant  farms, 

In  rustic  guise,  and  unadorned  in  arms ; 

Not  like  their  foes  in  tinsel  trappings  gay, 

•And  burnished  arms  that  glittered  on  the  day." 

Bunker  Hill  follows :  — 

"  Long  raged  the  contest  on  th'  embattled  field  ; 
Nor  those  would  fly,  nor  these  would  tamely  yield— 
Till  Warren  fell,  in  all  the  boast  of  arms, 
The  pride  of  genius  and  unrivalled  charms. 
His  country's  hope !  —  full  soon  the  gloom  was  spread : 
Oppressed  with  numbers  and  their  leader  dead, 
Slow  from  the  field  the  sullen  troops  retired, 
Behind,  the  hostile  flames  to  heaven  aspired." 

Washington  appears  on  the  scene :  — 

"  Now  darkness  gathered  round  : 
The  thunder  rumbled,  and  the  tempest  frowned; 
When  lo  !  to  guide  us  through  the  storm  of  war, 
Beamed  the  bright  splendor  of  Virginia's  star. 
First  of  her  heroes,  fav'rite  of  the  skies, 
To  what  dread  toils  thy  country  bade  thee  rise ! 
« O,  raised  by  Heaven  to  save  th'  invaded  state  ! ' 
(So  spake  the  sage  long  since  thy  future  fate,) 
'T  was  thine  to  change  the  sweetest  scenes  of  life 
For  public  cares,  —  to  guide  th'  embattled  strife; 
Unnumbered  ills  of  every  kind  to  dare, 
The  winter's  blast,  the  summer's  sultry  air, 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    405 

The  lurking  dagger,  and  the  turbid  storms 
Of  wasting  war  with  death  in  all  its  forms. 
Nor  aught  could  daunt.     Unspeakably  serene, 
Thy  conscious  soul  smiled  o'er  the  dreadful  scene." 

I  pass  over  the  tributes  to  Brown,  Scammel, 
and  Laurens,  which,  according  to  the  Journal  de 
Paris,  "  will  ever  be  read  with  sympathetic  sor 
row."  One  more  passage  must  suffice  for  the 
dark  side  of  the  picture,  and  in  it  you  will  find 
two  lines  which  come  nearer  to  truth  of  coloring 
than  any  we  have  yet  read :  — 

"  What !  when  you  fled  before  superior  force, 
Each  succor  lost,  and  perished  each  resource ! 
When  nature,  fainting  from  the  want  of  food, 
On  the  white  snow  your  steps  were  marked  in  blood  ! 
When  through  your  tattered  garbs  you  met  the  wind! 
Despair  before,  and  ruin  frowned  behind  ! " 

Peace  approaches :  — 

"  Anon  the  horrid  sounds  of  war  shall  cease, 
And  all  the  Western  world  be  hushed  in  peace : 
The  martial  clarion  shall  be  heard  no  more, 
Nor  the  loud  cannon's  desolating  roar : 
No  more  our  heroes  pour  the  purple  flood, 
No  corse  be  seen  with  garments  rolled  in  blood ; 
No  shivering  wretch  shall  roam  without  a  shed : 
No  pining  orphans  raise  their  cry  for  bread ; 
No  tender  mother  shriek  at  dreams  of  woe, 
Start  from  her  sleep,  and  see  the  midnight  foe ; 
The  lovely  virgin,  and  the  hoary  sire, 
No  more  behold  the  village  flame  aspire, 
While  the  base  spoiler,  from  a  father's  arms 
Plucks  the  fair  flower,  and  riots  on  its  charms." 


406  LECTURE  XII. 

Do  you  not  recognize  in  these  lines  a  mingled 
imitation  of  Pope  and  Goldsmith  ?  It  is  still  more 
evident  in  the  following  passage,  which  is,  perhaps, 
a  nearer  approach  to  real  poetry  than  any  he  ever 
wrote. 

"  Then,  O  ray  friends  !  the  task  of  glory  done, 
Th'  immortal  prize  by  your  bold  efforts  won ; 
Your  country's  saviours  by  her  voice  confessed, 
"While  unborn  ages  rise  and  call  you  blest,  — 
Then  let  us  go  where  happier  climes  invite, 
To  midland  seas,  and  regions  of  delight ; 
With  all  that 's  ours,  together  let  us  rise, 
Seek  brighter  plains,  and  more  indulgent  skies ; 
Where  fair  Ohio  rolls  his  amber  tide, 
And  Nature  blossoms  in  her  virgin  pride ; 
Where  all  that  beauty's  hand  can  form  to  please 
Shall  crown  the  toils  of  war  with  rural  ease. 
The  shady  coverts,  and  the  sunny  hills, 
The  gentle  lapse  of  ever-murm'ring  rills, 
The  soft  repose  amid  the  noontide  bowers, 
The  evening  walk  among  the  blushing  flowers, 
The  fragrant  groves  that  yield  a  sweet  perfume, 
And  vernal  glories  in  perpetual  bloom, 
Await  you  there ;  and  heaven  shall  bless  the  toil, 
Your  own  the  produce,  as  your  own  the  soil." 

"  The  Happiness  of  America  "  does  not,  strictly 
speaking,  come  within  the  limits  of  my  subject,  for 
it  was  not  written  till  after  the  war.  I  allude  to 
it  however,  because,  although  in  nearly  the  same 
style,  it  is  a  much  more  poetical  specimen  of  that 
style  than  the  "Address."  And  that  it  was  looked 
upon  by  Humphreys's  contemporaries  as  a  true 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    407 

poem,  or  at  least  as  a  work  of  great  merit,  may  be 
fairly  inferred  from  the  fact  that  it  passed  through 
ten  editions  in  the  author's  lifetime.  If  I  should  be 
thought  to  have  dwelt  longer  upon  Humphreys's 
defects  than  the  subject  required,  remember  that 
in  the  eyes  of  his  contemporaries  he  was  more 
especially  the  poet  of  the  Revolution,  that  he  was 
the  first  to  attempt  a  picture  in  verse  of  the  scenes 
of  the  war,  and  the  first  to  whose  pages  Europeans 
went  for  indications  of  the  poetical  promise  of  the 
new  nation. 

It  is  with  reluctance  that  I  pass  by  that  singular 
instance  of  African  genius,  Boston  trained,  Phillis 
Wheatley,  whose  verses  lose  nothing  by  a  compar 
ison  with  those  of  Dwight  and  Barlow.  Freneau's 
Muse,  too,  began  her  multitudinous  labors  while 
the  war  was  still  raging,  producing,  at  least,  one 
piece  of  real  value,  —  the  lines  on  the  battle  of 
Eutaw ;  and  other  names  might  be  added  to  the 
catalogue,  if  to  make  a  catalogue  were  my  aim. 
But  it  is  the  character  of  the  poetry  that  we  are 
studying,  and  the  true  nature  of  the  poetical  ele 
ment,  and  these  are  best  found  in  the  writings  of 
the  acknowledged  masters  of  song. 

We  have  seen  that  in  their  serious  attempts 
these  masters  failed.  In  humorous  poetry,  how 
ever,  one  among  them  was,  if  not  fully  successful, 
yet  enough  so  to  deserve  honorable  mention  among 
the  writers  of  his  class,  and  to  interest  and  amuse 
even  the  readers  of  an  age  familiar  with  the  keen 


408  LECTURE  XII. 

satire  of  Lowell  and  the  sparkling  wit  of  Holmes. 
This  was  John  Trumbull,  of  Connecticut,  whose 
long  life,  beginning  in  1750,  reached  down  to 
1831 :  the  friend  and  fellow-laborer  of  Dwight, 
and  Humphreys,  and  Barlow,  yet  living  to  see 
with  his  own  eyes  the  birth  of  a  new  literature, 
and  read  the  early  verses  of  Biyant  and  Long 
fellow.  Trumbull's  serious  poems  are  neither  very 
numerous  nor  very  good.  The  longest  of  them  is 
an  "  Elegy  on  the  Times,"  written  at  Boston  dur 
ing  the  operation  of  the  Port  Bill.  I  select  the 
closing  stanzas  both  as  the  best  and  because  they 
express  with  much  force  an  opinion,  which  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  confined  to  poets,  that  the 
loss  of  the  Colonies  would  be  the  ruin  of  Eng 
land  :  — 

"  And  where  is  Britain  ?     In  the  skirt  of  day, 

Where  stormy  Neptune  rolls  his  utmost  tide, 
Where  suns  oblique  diffuse  a  feeble  ray, 
And  lonely  streams  the  fated  coasts  divide, 

"  Seest  thou  yon  Isle,  whose  desert  landscape  yields 

The  mournful  traces  of  the  fame  she  bore, 
Whose  matted  thorns  oppress  th'  uncultured  fields, 
And  piles  of  ruin  load  the  dreary  shore  ? 

"  From  those  loved  seats,  the  virtues  sad  withdrew 

From  fell  corruption's  bold  and  venal  hand ; 
Keluctant  Freedom  waved  her  last  adieu, 
And  devastation  swept  the  vassalled  land. 

"  On  her  white  cliffs,  the  pillars  once  of  fame, 
Her  melancholy  Genius  sits  to  wail, 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    409 

Drops  the  fond  tear,  and  o'er  her  latest  shame 
Bids  dark  oblivion  draw  th'  eternal  veil."  * 

But  TrumbuH's  true  field  was  satire,  —  not  the 
elaborate  didactic  satire  of  Pope,  but  the  swift 
moving,  narrative  satire  of  Butler.  Hudibras 
must  have  been  his  favorite  study ;  and  it  must 
be  acknowledged  that  he,  more  than  once,  caught 
the  spirit  of  his  great  master.  His  verse  has  some 
thing  of  the  same  rapid  and  spontaneous  flow,  and 
his  rhymes  come  with  something  of  the  same  ease 
from  remote  distances.  It  should  be  remembered, 
however,  that  while  Butler's  style  is  the  low  bur 
lesque,  Trumbull,  with  great  judgment,  has  chosen 
the  high.f 

But  Butler's  wit  was  fed  from  an  exhaustless 
fountain  of  learning.  He  not  only  surprises  you 
by  the  novelty  and  variety  of  his  illustrations,  but 
often  compels  you  to  pause  and  follow  out  the 
trains  of  thought  that  he  suggests.  TrumbuH's 
subject,  it  may  be  said,  would  hardly  have  ad 
mitted  of  this,  but  it  is  equally  certain  that  his 
learning  fell  far  short  of  that  apparent  mastery 
over  the  whole  field  of  erudition,  which  was  a 
principal  source  of  Butler's  power. 

The  earliest  of  his  humorous  poems  was  "  The 

*  An  "  Elegy  on  the  Times,"  TrumbuH's  Works,  Vol.  II. 
(205)  217. 

f  See  TrumbuH's  letter  to  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux  in  the 
Appendix  to  the  second  volume  of  Goodrich's  edition  of  Trum- 
bull's  Works. 

18 


410  LECTURE  XII. 

Progress  of  Dulness,"  which  may  still  be  read 
with  pleasure.  But  the  work  by  which  he  was 
best  known,  and  with  which  his  name  is  univer 
sally  associated,  is  the  mock  epic  of  "  MacFingal." 
This  work,  so  full  of  the  spirit  of  the  times,  was 
begun  in  1775,  just  after  the  battle  of  Lexing 
ton,  and  the  first  part  was  published  in  Philadel 
phia,  during  the  session  of  the  great  Congress  of 
Independence.  Its  object  was  purely  political,  to 
rouse  the  courage  of  the  Whigs  by  a  ludicrous  yet 
faithful  picture  of  the  Tories.  And  so  well  was 
the  time  chosen,  and  so  felicitous  was  the  execu 
tion  that  it  became  a  favorite  with  all  classes,  pass 
ing  through  thirty  editions,  in  the  author's  lifetime, 
although,  for  want  of  a  law  of  copyright,  he  de 
rived  no  pecuniary  advantage  except  from  one  of 
them.  It  was  not  till  the  last  year  of  the  war 
that  the  remaining  cantos  were  added,  when  it 
assumed  the  form  which  it  now  bears,  of  a  "  Mod 
ern  Epic"  in  four  cantos. 

I  regret  that  my  limits  will  not  permit  me  to 
enter  into  a  careful  examination  of  this  remarkable 
poem  and  bring  it  to  the  standard  of  the  Lutrin, 
the  Dispensary,  and  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  as 
well  as  to  the  standard  of  Hudibras.  It  would 
well  repay  the  labor  and  the  time ;  but  the  hour  is 
passing  and  we  have  still  more  ground  to  go  over. 
An  outline  of  its  plan  and  a  few  extracts  as  speci 
mens  of  the  execution  are  all  I  can  give. 

The  plot  is  a  very  simple  one,  yet  in  its  simpli- 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    411 

city  true  to  the  life  of  the  times.     The  hero,  Mac- 
Fingal,  i*  a  Tory  of  the  deepest  dye.     Honorius 
is  a  Whig.     The  battle-ground  is  first  that  true 
New  England  ground,  a  town-meeting ;  and  then 
that  characteristic  ground  of  the  period,  the  space 
around  the  Liberty-pole.     The  first  two  books  are 
given  to  the  town-meeting,  where  MacFingal  re 
counts  the  exploits  of  the  English,  the  enormities 
of  the  Rebels,  and  draws  pictures,  meant  to  be 
terrifying,  of  their  impending  doom.     The  voice 
of    Honorius  is  drowned   by   the   clamor  of  the 
Tories,  while  his  fluent  adversary  pours  forth  a 
mingled   strain    of  narrative,    prophecy,  and   re 
proach.      Dinner-time    comes,   and    the    meeting 
adjourns.     The  debate  is  resumed  in  the  after 
noon  ;   but  meanwhile  the  Whigs  on  the  outside 
are  busily  engaged  in  raising  a  liberty-pole.    Their 
shouts  rise  above  the  voice  of  the  orator.      The 
audience  hurry  out  to  see  what  this  new  uproar 
means;  MacFingal  with  them.     At  the  sight  of 
the  pole  he  bursts  into  a  fresh  torrent  of  invective  ; 
calls  upon  the  constable  to  read  the  Riot  Act,  and 
summons  his  adherents  to  aid  him  in  tearing  down 
the  obnoxious  emblem.     A  battle  ensues.      The 
Whigs    are  victorious.      The   unfortunate    orator 
is  seized,   tried,  condemned  to  tar  and  feathers, 
and  the   sentence  carried   into  instant  execution. 
Instructed  by  misfortune,  MacFingal  collects  his 
friends  by  night  in  his  cellar,  foretells  the  general 
history  of  the   war,   and  at   the  approach  of  his 


412  LECTURE  XII. 

adversaries,  who  have  discovered  the  Tory  gather 
ing  and  are  upon  the  point  of  breaking  in  upon 
them,  steals  through  a  window  known  only  to 
himself,  and  makes  his  way  to  Boston  as  best  he 
can. 

The  opening  will  remind  you  of  Hudibras :  — 

"  When  Yankees,  skilled  in  martial  rule, 
First  put  the  British  troops  to  school ; 
Instructed  them  in  warlike  trade 
And  new  manoeuvres  of  parade, 
The  true  war-dance  of  Yankee  reels, 
And  manual  exercise  of  heels ; 
Made  them  give  up,  like  saints  complete, 
The  arm  of  flesh  and  trust  the  feet, 
And  work,  like  Christians  undissembling, 
Salvation  out,  by  fear  and  trembling ; 
Taught  Percy  fashionable  races 
And  modern  modes  of  Chevy  Chases ; 
From  Boston  in  his  best  array 
Great  Squire  MacFingal  took  his  way, 
And,  graced  with  ensigns  of  renown, 
Steered  homeward  to  his  native  town." 

I  pass  reluctantly  over  the  story  of  his  origin, 
with  the  humorous  allusion  to  Ossian  ;  and  the 
more  humorous  narrative  of  the  conversion  of 
his  family  from  Jacobitism  to  Toryism,  in  which 
King  George  figures  as  a  king 

"  Whom  every  Scot  and  Jacobite 
Strait  fell  in  love  with  at  first  sight ; 
Whose  gracious  speech,  with  aid  of  pensions, 
Hushed  down  all  murmurs  of  dissensions." 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.   413 

But  this  Highland  origin  manifests  itself  in  the 
true  form  of  hereditary  transmission  of  qualities,  — 

"  Whence  gained  our  Squire  two  gifts  by  right, 
Rebellion  and  the  second  sight,"  — 

and  must  not,  therefore,  be  forgotten.     The  latter 
gift  is  not  allowed  to  lie  idle :  — 

"  No  ancient  sibyl,  famed  in  rhyme, 
Saw  deeper  in  the  womb  of  time. 

.  He  for  oracles  was  grown 

The  very  tripod  of  the  town. 
Gazettes  no  sooner  rose  a  lie  in, 
But  strait  he  fell  to  prophesying  ; 
Made  dreadful  slaughter  in  his  course, 
O'erthrew  Provincials,  foot  and  horse, 
Brought  armies  o'er  by  sudden  pressings 
Of  Hanoverians,  Swiss,  and  Hessians, 
Feasted  with  blood  his  Scottish  clan, 
And  hanged  all  rebels  to  a  man, 
Divided  their  estates  and  pelf, 
And  took  a  goodly  share  himself. 
All  this  with  spirit  energetic 
He  did  by  second  sight  prophetic." 

The  gift  of  eloquence  follows,  of  course :  — 

"  Thus  stored  with  intellectual  riches, 
Skilled  was  our  Squire  in  making  speeches ; 
Where  strength  of  brains  united  centres 
With  strength  of  lungs  surpassing  Stentor's." 

But    his    eloquence    is    more   remarkable   for 
warmth  than  for  logic  :  — 


414  LECTURE  XII. 

"  But  as  some  muskets  so  contrive  it, 
As  oft  to  miss  the  mark  they  drive  at, 
And,  though  well  aimed  at  duck  or  plover, 
Bear  wide  and  kick  their  owners  over, 
So  fared  our  Squire,  whose  reasoning  toil 
Would  often  on  himself  recoil, 
And  so  much  injured  more  his  side, 
The  stronger  arguments  he  applied  ; 
As  old  war-elephants,  dismayed, 
Trod  down  the  troops  they  came  to  aid, 
And  hurt  their  own  side  more  in  battle 
Than  less  and  ordinary  cattle." 

Still  he  was  a  leader,  and  in  the  statement- of 
the  fact  you  will  observe  the  side  hit  at  party 
majorities :  — 

"  Yet  at  town-meetings  every  chief 
Pinned  faith  on  great  MacFingal's  sleeve  ; 
Which  when  he  lifted,  all  by  rote 
Raised  sympathetic  hands  to  vote." 

Such  is  the  hero.     The  town, 

"  his  scene  of  action, 
Had  long  been  torn  by  feuds  of  faction/' 

weaving  "  cobwebs  for  the  public  weal,"  which  re 
mind  how 

"  that  famed  weaver,  wife  t'  Ulysses, 
By  night  her  day's  work  picked  in  pieces, 
And  though  she  stoutly  did  bestir  her, 
Its  finishing  was  ne'er  the  nearer." 

For  the  townsfolk 

"  met,  made  speeches,  full  long-winded, 
Resolved,  protested,  and  rescinded." 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    41 5 

It  is  evident  that  the  author  was  not  blind  to  the 
faults  of  his  friends. 

"  And  now  the  town  was  summoned  greeting, 
To  grand  parading  of  town-meeting." 

The  place  of  meeting  is  the  village  church,  which 
gives  him  an  opportunity  for  another  stroke  of 
satire  :  — 

"  That  house,  which,  loath  a  rule  to  break, 
Served  heaven  but  one  day  in  the  week,  — 
Open  the  rest  for  all  supplies 
Of  news,  and  politics,  and  lies." 

The  constable  stands 

"  High  o'er  the  rout  on  pulpit  stairs 

The  moderator's  upper  half 

In  grandeur  o'er  the  cushion  bowed, 

Like  Sol  half  seen  behind  a  cloud." 

What  New-Englander,  of  even  the  last  genera 
tion,  would  fail  to  recognize  the  scene  ? 

"  Our  Squire,  returning  late," 

finds  Honorius  in  possession  of  the  floor,  and  is 
compelled  to  listen  awhile,  with  "  sour  faces,"  to 
a  Whig's  views  of  England  and  her  policy,  and 
how  she 

"  Sent  fire  and  sword,  and  called  it  Lenity ; 
Starved  us,  and  christened  it  Humanity." 
And, 

"  spite  of  prayers  her  schemes  pursuing, 
She  still  went  on  to  work  our  ruin ; 


416  LECTURE  XII. 

Annulled  our  charters  of  releases, 

And  tore  our  trt|e  deeds  to  pieces  ; 

Then  signed  her  warrants  of  ejection, 

And  gallows  raised  to  stretch  our  necks  on ; 

And  on  these  errands  sent  in  rage 

Her  bailiff  and  her  hangman,  Gage." 

The  portrait  of  Gage  is  not  flattering :  — 

"  No  state  e'er  chose  a  fitter  person 
To  carry  such  a  silly  farce  on. 
As  heathen  gods,  in  ancient  days, 
Received  at  second  hand  their  praise, 
Stood  imaged  forth  in  stones  and  stocks, 
And  deified  in  barber's  blocks ; 
So  Gage  was  chose  to  represent 
Th'  omnipotence  of  Parliament." 

You  know  that  serious  accusations  of  untruthful- 
ness  were  brought  against  the  British  commander. 
Our  author  traces  the  habit  to  a  natural  source, 
but  adds,  that  with  all  that  master's  assistance  he 
never  had 

"  The  wit  to  tell  a  lie  with  art." 

And  MacFingal  defends  the  royal  Governor,  for, 
says  he, 

"  As  men's  last  wills  may  change  again, 
Though  drawn  '  In  name  of  God,  Amen  ' ; 
Be  sure  they  must  have  clearly  more 
O'er  promises  as  great  a  power, 
Which  made  in  haste,  with  small  inspection, 
So  much  the  more  will  need  correction  ; 
And  when  they  Ve  careless  spoke  or  penned  'em, 
Have  a  right  to  look  them  o'er  and  mend  'em ; 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    417 

Revive  their  vows  or  change  the  text, 

By  way  of  codicil  annexed  ; 

Strike  out  a  promise  that  was  base, 

And  put  a  better  in  its  place. 

So  Gage,  of  late  agreed,  you  know, 

To  let  the  Boston  people  go  ; 

Yet  when  he  saw  'gainst  troops  that  braved  him 

They  were  the  only  guards  that  saved  him, 

Kept  off  that  Satan  of  a  Putnam 

From  breaking  in  to  maul  and  mutton  him, 

He  'd  too  much  wit  such  leagues  t'  observe, 

And  shut  them  in  again  to  starve." 

The  forenoon  session  leaves  the  Tory  orator  in 
the  possession  of  the  floor,  and  at  his  suggestion 
the  meeting  adjourns  for  dinner.  The  second 
book  opens : — 

"  The  sun,  who  never  stops  to  dine, 
Two  hours  had  passed  the  mid-way  line, 
And,  driving  at  his  usual  rate, 
Lashed  on  his  downward  car  of  state. 
And  now  expired  the  short  vacation, 
And  dinner  o'er  in  epic  fashion, 
While  all  the  crew  beneath  the  trees 
Ate  apple  pies  and  bread  and  cheese, 
(Nor  shall  we,  like  old  Homer,  care 
To  versify  their  bill  of  fare,) 
Each  active  party,  feasted  well, 
Thronged  in,  like  sheep,  at  sound  of  bell ; 
With  equal  spirit  took  their  places, 
And  meeting  oped  with  three  Oh  Yesses; 
When  first,  the  daring  Whigs  t'  oppose, 
Again  the  great  MacFingal  rose, 
Stretched  magisterial  arm  amain, 
And  thus  resumed  th'  accusing  strain." 

18*  AA 


418  LECTURE  XII. 

It  would  be  easy  to  fill  pages  with  extracts  from 
the  afternoon  session.  I  should  particularly  like 
to  give  you  in  full  the  character  of  Burgoyne  and 
the  summary  of  English  achievements.  But  I 
must  confine  myself  to  two.  And  first,  English 
benefits  and  American  ingratitude  :  — 

"  Ungrateful  sons,  a  factious  band, 
That  rise  against  your  parent  land, 

And  scorn  the  debt  and  obligation 
You  justly  owe  the  British  nation, 
Which,  since  you  cannot  pay,  your  crew 
Affect  to  swear  was  never  due. 

"  Did  not  the  deeds  of  England's  Primate 
First  drive  your  fathers  to  tins  climate, 
Whom  jails  and  fines  and  every  ill 
Forced  to  their  good  against  their  will  ? 
Ye  owe  to  their  obliging  temper 
The  peopling  your  new-fangled  empire, 
While  every  British  act  and  canon 
Stood  forth  your  causa  sine  qua  non. 
Who  'd  seen,  except  for  these  restraints, 
Your  witches,  Quaker,,  Whigs,  and  saints, 
Or  heard  of  Mather's  famed  Magnolia, 
If  Charles  and  Laud  had  chanced  to  fail  you  ? 
Did  they  not  send  your  charters  o'er, 
And  give  you  lands  you  owned  before, 
Permit  you  all  to  spill  your  blood, 
And  drive  out  heathens  when  you  could ; 
On  these  mild  terms  that  conquest  won, 
The  realm  you  gained  should  be  their  own  ? 

Say  at  what  period  did  they  grudge 
To  send  you  Governor  or  Judge, 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    419 

With  all  their  missionary  crew 

To  teach  you  law  and  gospel  too  ? 

They  brought  all  felons  in  the  nation 

To  help  you  on  in  population ; 

Proposed  their  Bishops  to  surrender, 

And  made  their  Priests  a  legal  tender, 

Who  only  asked,  in  surplice  clad, 

The  simple  tithe  of  all  you  had : 

And  now,  to  keep  all  knaves  in  awe, 

Have  sent  their  troops  t'  establish  law, 

And  with  gunpowder,  fire,  and  ball, 

Reform  your  people  one  and  all. 

Yet  when  their  insolence  and  pride 

Have  angered  all  the  world  beside, 

When  fear  and  want  at  once  invade, 

Can  you  refuse  to  lend  them  aid, 

And  rather  risk  your  heads  in  fight, 

Than  gratefully  throw  in  your  mite  ? 

Can  they  for  debts  make  satisfaction, 

Should  they  dispose  their  realm  at  auction, 

And  sell  off  Britain's  goods  and  land  all 

To  France  and  Spain  by  inch  of  candle  ? 

Shall  good  King  George,  with  want  oppressed, 

Insert  his  name  in  bankrupt  list  ? 

With  poverty  shall  princes  strive 
And  nobles  lack  whereon  to  live  * 

And  who  believes  you  will  not  run  ? 
You  're  cowards,  every  mother's  son, 
And  if  you  offer  to  deny, 
We  've  witnesses  to  prove  it  by." 

This,  of  course,  is  meant  for  Amherst,  Grant, 
and  the  other  revilers  of  American  courage.  The 
"  British  Lion"  sits  for  his  portrait  too :  — 


420  LECTURE  XII. 

"  Have  you  not  roused,  his  force  to  try  on, 
That  grim  old  beast,  the  British  Lion  ? 
And  know  you  not  that  at  a  sup 
He 's  large  enough  to  eat  you  up  ? 
Have  you  surveyed  his  jaws  beneath, 
Drawn  inventories  of  his  teeth, 
Or  have  you  weighed  in  even  balance, 
His  strength  and  magnitude  of  talons  ? 
His  roar  would  change  your  boasts  to  fear 
As  easily  as  sour  small  beer." 

The  partisans  of  England  had  boasted  of  her 
humanity.  You  remember  how  Gage  writes  to 
Washington  that  "Britons,  ever  pre-eminent  in 
mercy,  have  outgone  common  examples,  and 
overlooked  the  criminal  in  the  captive."  *  Mac- 
Fin  o-al  tells  us  in  what  sense  the  word  is  used:  — 
& 

"  For  now  in  its  primeval  sense 
This  term,  humanity,  comprehends 
All  things  of  which,  on  this  side  hell, 
The  human  mind  is  capable ; 
And  thus  't  is  well,  by  writers  sage, 
Applied  to  Briton  and  to  Gage." 

The  expedition  to  Salem  and  the  battle  of 
Lexington  are  told  with  much  humor  and  many 
keen  strokes  of  satire.  But  it  is  in  the  future  that 
the  second-sighted  orator  finds  amplest  room  for 
the  display  of  his  powers.  Let  me  premise,  how 
ever,  before  I  read  from  this  passage,  that  the 
Marshfield  Resolves  were  a  very  bombastic  and 
silly  outbreak  of  Toryism,  which  found  a  worthy 

*  Gage  to  Washington.     Sparks's  Washington,  Vol.  III.  p. 
500,  Appendix  VII. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.   421 

representative  in  a  certain  Abijah  White  ;  and 
that  British  officers,  mistaking  the  winding  of 
the  "  small  and  sullen  horn "  of  the  beetle  and 
the  whizzing  of  mosquitoes  for  more  formidable 
sounds,  wrote  home,  that  in  their  evening  walk  on 
Beacon  Hill  they  had  been  shot  at  by  the  Yankees 
with  air-guns.  Need  I  remind  you  that,  trifles  as 
these  are,  they  throw  a  light  upon  the  passions  and 
feelings,  the  misconceptions  and  prejudices  of  the 
times,  which  nothing  else  could  give  ?  The  silly 
Elijah,  with  his  "  dread  array  of  commissions,  pis 
tols,  swords,  resolves,"  is  the  bullying,  blustering 
Tory,  as  the  Tory  often  appeared  to  our  fathers. 
The  English  officers  who  "  muskitoes  take  for 
musketeers,"  are  the  conceited,  foppish  cockneys, 
who  believed  that  every  Colonist  was  a  savage, 
and  that  scalping,  if  not  roasting,  was  as  much  a 
pastime  of  the  Yankee  as  of  the  Indian.  There 
were  honest  men  among  the  Tories,  —  honest, 
though  sadly  misguided  ;  well-informed  men 
among  the  British  officers,  —  though  not  well- 
informed  enough  to  distinguish  the  right  from 
the  wrong  of  this  contest.  But  if  we  would 
form  a  correct  idea  of  the  period  we  must  study 
both  classes,  and  for  the  first,  MacFingal  is  our 
best  authority :  — 

"  But  now  your  triumphs  all  are  o'er, 
For  see  from  Britain's  angry  shore, 
With  deadly  hosts  of  valor  join 
Her  Howe,  her  Clinton,  and  Burgoyne, 


422  LECTURE  XII. 

As  comets  through  th'  affrighted  skies 

Pour  baleful  ruin  as  they  rise ; 

As  ^Etna  with  infernal  roar 

In  conflagration  sweeps  the  shore ; 

Or  as  Abijah  White,  when  sent 

Our  Marshfield  friends  to  represent, 

Himself  while  dread  array  involves, 

Commissions,  pistols,  swords,  resolves, 

In  awful  pomp  descending  down 

Bore  terror  on  the  factious  town : 

Not  with  less  glory  and  affright 

Parade  these  generals  forth  to  fight, 

No  more  each  British  colonel  runs 

From  whizzing  beetles  as  air-guns ; 

Thinks  hornbugs  bullets,  or  thro*  fears 

Muskitoes  takes  for  musketeers ; 

Nor  'scapes,  as  if  you  'd  gained  supplies, 

From  Beelzebub's  whole  host  of  flies. 

No  bug  these  warlike  hearts  appalls, 

They  better  know  the  sound  of  balls. 

I  hear  the  din  of  battle  bray ; 

The  trump  of  horror  marks  its  way. 

I  see  afar  the  sack  of  cities, 

The  gallows  strung  with  Whig  committees ; 

Your  moderators  triced  like  vermin, 

And  gate-posts  graced  with  heads  of  chairmen ; 

Your  Congress  for  wave  offerings  hanging, 

And  ladders  thronged  with  priests  haranguing. 

What  pillories  glad  the  Tories'  eyes 

With  patriot  ears  for  sacrifice ! 

What  whipping-posts  your  chosen  race 

Admit  successive  in  embrace, 

While  each  bears  off  his  sins,  alack ! 

Like  Bunyan's  pilgrim,  on  his  back. 

Where  then  when  Tories  scarce  get  clear 

Shall  Whigs  and  Congresses  appear  ?  " 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    423 

But  I  must  hasten  to  the  catastrophe.  I  pass 
over  the  breaking  up  of  the  meeting,  the  liberty- 
pole  with  its  characteristic  inauguration,  the  side- 
way  thrust  at  the  slave-trade,  as  the  flag 


Inscribed  with  inconsistent  types 
Of  Liberty  and  tlurteen  stripes," 


and  how 


"  Beneath  the  crowd  without  delay 
?The  dedication  rites  essay, 
And  gladly  pay  in  ancient  fashion 
The  ceremonies  of  libation  ; 
While  briskly  to  each  patriot  lip 
Walks  eager  round  the  inspiring  flip." 

I  pass  over  these  and  the  Squire's  harangue,  and 
the  fight  and  overthrow,  to  dwell  for  a  moment  on 
the  sentence  and  its  execution :  — 

"  Meanwhile  beside  the  pole,  the  guard 
A  Bench  of  Justice  had  prepared, 
Where,  sitting  round  in  awful  sort, 
The  grand  committee  hold  their  court 
While  all  the  crew  in  silent  awe 
Wait  from  their  lips  the  lore  of  law. 
Few  moments  with  deliberation 
They  hold  the  solemn  consultation ; 
When  soon  in  judgment  all  agree 
And  clerk  proclaims  the  dread  decree,  — 

"  That  Squire  MacFingal  having  grown 
The  vilest  Tory  in  the  town, 
And  now  in  full  examination 
Convicted  by  his  own  confession, 


424  LECTURE  XII. 

Finding  no  tokens  of  repentance 
This  court  proceeds  to  render  sentence ; 
That,  first,  the  mob  a  slip-knot  single 
Tie  round  the  neck  of  said  MacFingal, 
And  in  due  form  do  tar  him  next, 
And  feather  as  the  law  directs ; 
Then  through  the  town  attendant  ride  him 
In  cart  with  constable  beside  him, 
And,  having  held  him  up  to  shame, 
Bring  to  the  pole  from  whence  he  came. 
"  Forthwith  the  crowd  proceed  to  dock 
With  haltered  noose  MacFingal's  neck, 
While  he  in  peril  of  his  soul 
Stood  tied  half  dangling  to  the  pole ; 
Then,  lifting  high  the  ponderous  jar, 
Poured  o'er  his  head  the  smoking  tar. 
With  less  profusion  once  was  spread 
Oil  on  the  Jewish  monarch's  head, 
That  down  his  beard  and  vestments  ran, 
And  covered  all  his  outward  man. 
As  when  (so  Claudian  sings)  the  gods 
And  earth-born  giants  fell  at  odds, 
The  stout  Enceladus  in  malice 
Tore  mountains  up  to  throw  at  Pallas ; 
And  while  he  held  them  o'er  his  head, 
The  river,  from  their  fountains  fed, 
Poured  down  his  back  its  copious  tide, 
And  wore  its  channels  in  his  hide : 
So  from  the  high-raised  urn  the  torrents 
Spread  down  his  side  their  various  currents ; 
His  flowing  wig,  as  next  the  brim, 
First  met  and  drank  the  sable  stream ; 
Adown  his  visage  stern  and  grave 
Rolled  and  adhered  the  viscid  wave ; 
With  arms  depending  as  he  stood, 
Each  cuff  capacious  holds  the  flood ; 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    425 

From  nose  and  chin's  remotest  end 

The  tarry  icicles  descend; 

Till  all  o'erspread  with  colors  gay, 

He  glittered  to  the  western  ray, 

Like  sleet-bound  trees  in  wintry  skies, 

Or  Lapland  idol  carved  in  ice. 

And  now  the  feather-bag  displayed 

Is  waved  in  triumph  o'er  his  head, 

And  clouds  him  o'er  with  feathers  missive, 
And  down,  upon  the  tar,  adhesive* 
Not  Maia's  son,  with  wings  for  ears, 

Such  plumage  round  his  visage  wears  ; 

Nor  Milton's  six-winged  angel  gathers 

Such  superfluity  of  feathers. 

Now  all  complete  appears  our  Squire, 

Like  Gorgon  or  Chimera  dire ; 

Nor  more  could  boast,  on  Plato's  plan, 

To  rank  among  the  race  of  man, 

Or  prove  his  claim  to  human  nature, 

As  a  two-legged,  unfeathered  creature." 

The  carting  follows  next :  — 

"  In  front  the  martial  music  comes 
Of  horns  and  fiddles,  fifes  and  drums, 
With  jingling  sound  of  carriage-bells, 
And  treble  creak  of  rusted  wheels. 
Behind,  the  crowd,  in  lengthened  row 
With  proud  procession,  closed  the  show." 

The  crowd  disperses,  and  our  hero  and  his 
faithful  friend,  the  constable,  remain  alone.  Poor 
MacFingal ! 

"  Though  his  body  lacked  physician, 
His  spirit  was  in  worse  condition." 

And  as 


426  LECTURE  XII. 

"  All  goes  wrong  in  Church  and  State, 
Seen  through  prospective  of  the  grate ; 
So  now  MacFingal's  second  sight 
Beheld  all  things  in  different  light. 
His  visual  nerve,  well  purged  with  tar, 
Saw  all  the  coming  scenes  of  war. 
As  his  prophetic  soul  grew  stronger, 
He  found  he  could  hold  in  no  longer. 
First  from  the  pole,  as  fierce  he  shook, 
His  wig  from  pitchy  durance  broke, 
His  mouth  unglued,  his  feathers  fluttered, 
His  tarred  skirts  cracked,  and  thus  he  uttered." 

The  fourth  canto  opens  with  the  gathering  of 
the  Tories  by  night  in  MacFingal's  cellar. 


Now  night  came  down,  and  rose  full  soon 
That  patroness  of  rogues,  the  moon  ; 
Beneath  whose  kind  protecting  ray, 
Wolves,  brute  and  human,  prowl  for  prey. 
The  honest  world  all  snored  in  chorus, 
While  owls  and  ghosts  and  thieves  and  Tories, 
Whom  erst  the  mid-day  sun  had  awed, 
Crept  from  their  lurking  holes  abroad. 

«  On  cautious  hinges,  slow  and  stiller, 
Wide  oped  the  great  MacFingal's  cellar, 
Where  safe  from  prying  eyes  in  cluster 
The  Tory  Pandemonium  muster. 
Their  chiefs  all  sitting  round  descried  arc 
On  kegs  of  ale  and  seats  of  cider ; 
When  first  MacFingal,  dimly  seen, 
Rose  solemn  from  the  turnip-bin. 
Nor  yet  his  form  had  wholly  lost 
Th'  original  brightness  it  could  boast, 
Nor  less  appeared  than  Justice  Quorum, 
In  feathered  majesty  before  'cm. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    427 

Adown  his  tar-streaked  visage,  clear, 
Fell  glistening  fast  th'  indignant  tear, 
And  thus  his  voice,  in  mournful  wise, 
Pursued  the  prologue  of  his  sighs." 

This  book,  you  will  remember,  was  written  in 
1782,  and  thus  the  outline  of  the  war,  which  is  its 
principal  subject,  is  historically  correct.  It  is  not 
inferior  to  the  rest  of  the  work  in  spirit  and  hu 
mor  ;  one  passage,  indeed,  and  that  aimed  less  at 
the  enemy  than  at  the  errors  of  his  own  party,  it, 
full  of  true  invention. 

"  When  lo,  an  awful  spectre  rose, 
With  languid  paleness  on  his  brows ; 
Wan  dropsies  swelled  his  form  beneath, 
And  iced  his  bloated  cheeks  with  death ; 
His  tattered  robes  exposed  him  bare 
To  every  blast  of  ruder  air ; 
On  two  weak  crutches  propped  he  stood, 
That  bent  at  every  step  he  trod ; 
Gilt  titles  graced  their  sides  so  slender, 
One  «  Regulation/  t'  other  •  Tender '  ; 
His  breasplate  graved  with  various  dates, 
<  The  faith  of  all  th'  United  States ' ; 
Before  him  went  his  funeral  pall, 
His  grave  stood,  dug  to  wait  his  fall." 

This  disgusting  figure  is  "  the  ghost  of  Conti 
nental  money,"  and  if  you  have  not  forgotten  the 
lecture  of  the  other  evening,  you  will  readily  ac 
knowledge  the  faithfulness  of  the  portrait. 

To  do  full  justice  to  Trumbull,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  examine  many  other  passages,  point 
ing  out,  among  other  things,  the  happy  use  that 


428  LECTURE  XII. 

he  makes  of  Homer  and  Virgil  and  Milton,  and 
claiming  for  him  the  lines  that  have  passed  into 
proverbs,  and  been  attributed  to  other  writers. 
One  instance  will  illustrate  my  meaning  :  — 

"  What  rogue  e'er  felt  the  halter  draw 
With  good  opinion  of  the  law  ?  " 

How  often,  and  even  by  those  who  should  have 
known  better,  has  this  been  quoted  as  Butler's  ? 

You  will  easily  conceive  what  an  impression 
such  a  work  must  have  made  at  such  a  time,  how 
it  must  have  awakened  the  dormant  mirth  of  many 
an  evening  circle,  and  called  forth  shouts  of  mer 
riment  at  the  winter  camp-fire  ;  awakening  at  the 
same  time,  slumbering  faith,  and  strengthening 
wavering  resolution.  Of  the  welcome  it  met,  its 
thirty  editions  are  sufficient  proof,  and  if  you 
would  understand  the  men  and  the  passions  of  our 
Revolution,  you  must  study  it  as  a  running  com 
mentary,  a  photographic  illustration,  of  Sparks, 
and  Force,  and  Hildreth,  and  Irving. 

Of  the  songs  and  ballads  of  the  Revolution, 
there  is  little  to  say.  They  have  been  carefully 
collected  by  Frank  Moore,  and  carefully  studied 
by  the  Duyckinks.  They  were  not  unsuited, 
perhaps,  to  the  times,  meeting,  as  events  occurred, 
the  popular  need  of  a  concentrated  expression  of 
popular  feeling.  But,  though  rough  and  un 
adorned,  their  simplicity  is  not  the  artless  expres 
sion  of  sentiment,  nor  the  artless  picturesqueness 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    429 

of  narrative,  which  belong  to  the  old  ballad. 
They  have  the  stamp  of  a  later  age  upon  them,  of 
the  age  when  poetry  has  passed  from  the  wander 
ing  ministrel  to  the  author's  closet,  from  the  un 
cultivated  classes  to  the  cultivated  classes.  Now 
and  then  you  meet  a  striking  line  in  them,  and 
even  a  fine  stanza  ;  but  seldom  sustained  power, 
whether  of  pathos  or  of  humor. 

Of  the  numerous  ballads  on  Cornwallis,  "  The 
Dance  "  has  some  lively  stanzas,  and  one  excel 
lent  one. 

"  Cornwallis  led  a  country  dance, 
The  like  was  never  seen,  sir, 
Much  retrograde  and  much  advance, 
And  all  with  General  Greene,  sir. 

"  They  rambled  up  and  rambled  down, 
Joined  hands  and  off  they  run,  sir, 
Our  General  Greene  to  Charlestown, 
The  earl  to  Wilmington,  sir. 

"  Greene,  in  the  South,  then  danced  a  set, 

And  got  a  mighty  name,  sir, 
Cornwallis  jigged  with  young  Fayette 
And  suffered  in  his  fame,  sir." 

Washington  appears  on  the  scene,  and  in  de 
scribing  him  the  unknown  poet  catches  for  a  mo 
ment  the  true  spirit  of  his  art. 

"  And  Washington,  Columbia's  son, 
Whom  easy  nature  taught,  sir, 
That  grace  which  can't  by  pains  be  won, 
Or  Plutus'  gold  be  bought,  sir." 


430  LECTURE  XII. 

There  is  true  satire  in  the  "  Etiquette,"  but 
there  is  no  proof  that  it  was  written  by  an  Ameri 
can,  and  therefore  I  make  no  extracts.  For  the 
same  reaon  I  pass  over  the  "  Volunteer's  Song," 
and  the  "  Recess."  But  "  Clinton's  Invitation  to 
the  Refugees  "  is  truly  American,  and  in  a  strain 
of  keen  satire  that  Freneau  seldom  reached. 

"  Come,  gentlemen  Tories,  firm,  loyal,  and  true, 
Here  are  axes  and  shovels  and  something  to  do  ! 

For  the  sake  of  our  king, 

Come  labor  and  sing. 

You  left  all  you  had  for  his  honor  and  glory, 
And  he  will  remember  the  suffering  Tory. 

We  have,  it  is  true, 

Some  small  work  to  do  ; 

But  here  's  for  your  pay,  twelve  coppers  a  day, 
And  never  regard  what  the  rebels  may  say, 
But  throw  off  your  jerkins  and  labor  away. 

"  To  raise  up  the  rampart,  and  pile  up  the  wall, 
To  pull  down  old  houses,  and  dig  the  canal, 

To  build  and  destroy, 

Be  this  your  employ, 

In  the  day-time  to  work  at  our  fortifications, 
And  steal,  in  the  night,  from  the  rebels  your  rations. 

The  king  wants  your  aid, 

Not  empty  parade. 

Advance  to  your  places,  ye  men  of  long  faces, 
Nor  ponder  too  much  on  your  former  disgraces, 
This  year,  I  presume,  will  quite  alter  your  cases. 

"  Attend  at  the  call  of  the  fifer  and  drummer, 
The  French  and  the  rebels  are  coming  next  summer, 
And  the  forts  we  must  build, 
Though  Tories  are  killed. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    431 

Take  courage,  my  jockics,  and  work  for  your  king, 
For  if  you  are  taken,  no  doubt  you  will  swing. 

If  York  we  can  hold 

I  will  have  you  enrolled  ; 

And  after  you  're  dead,  your  names  shall  be  read, 
As  who  for  their  monarch  both  labored  and  bled, 
And  ventured  their  necks  for  their  beef  and  their  bread. 

"  'T  is  an  honor  to  serve  the  bravest  of  nations, 
And  be  left  to  be  hanged  in  their  capitulations. 

Then  scour  up  your  mortars, 

And  stand  to  your  quarters, 
'T  is  nonsense  for  Tories  in  battle  to  run. 
They  never  need  fear  sword,  halberd,  or  gun ; 

Their  hearts  should  not  fail  'em, 

No  balls  will  assail  'em ; 
Forget  your  disgraces,  and  shorten  your  faces, 
For  't  is  true  as  the  Gospel,  believe  it  or  not,  / 
Who  are  born  to  be  hanged  will  never  be  shot." 

Burgoyne's  defeat  is  celebrated  in  various  me 
tres.  Sullivan's  Island,  Trenton,  King's  Moun 
tain,  Yorktown,  are  sung  in  verses  which  may 
have  sounded  well  around  a  mess-table  or  a 
camp-fire,  —  may  have  read  well  in  a  broadside  or 
a  newspaper  of  the  day, — but  which  appear  tame 
and  awkward  in  a  printed  volume.  But  of  the 
humorous,  nay,  witty  ballads,  the  "  Battle  of  the 
Kegs  "  will  bear  a  comparison  with  the  best  of  its 
kind,  and  I  think  you  will  all  agree  with  me  that, 
though  unequal  in  parts,  there  is  simplicity,  a  hap 
py  choice  of  illustrative  circumstances,  delicacy  of 
thought,  sweetness  of  numbers,  and  a  full,  deep 


432  LECTURE  XII. 

flow  of  natural  pathos  in  the  ballad  of  Nathan 
Hale. 

BATTLE  OF  THE  KEGS. 

Gallants  attend,  and  hear  a  friend, 

Trill  forth  harmonious  ditty, 
Strange  things  I  '11  tell,  which  late  befell 

In  Philadelphia  city. 

'T  was  early  day,  as  poets  say, 

Just  when  the  sun  was  rising, 
A  soldier  stood  on  log  of  wood, 

And  saw  a  sight  surprising. 

As  in  amaze,  he  stood  to  gaze, 

The  truth  can't  be  denied,  sir, 
He  spied  a  score  of  kegs  or  more 

Come  floating  down  the  tide,  sir : 

A  sailor,  too,  in  jerkin  blue, 

This  strange  appearance  viewing, 

First  damned  his  eyes  in  great  surprise, 
Then  said,  "  Some  mischief's  brewing. 

"  Those  kegs,  I  'm  told,  the  rebels  hold, 

Packed  up  like  pickled  herring, 
And  they  're  come  down  t'  attack  the  town 

In  this  new  way  of  ferrying." 

The  soldier  flew,  the  sailor  too, 

And  scared  almost  to  death,  sir, 
Wore  out  their  shoes  to  spread  the  news, 

And  ran  till  out  of  breath,  sir. 

Now  up  and  down,  throughout  the  town, 

Most  frantic  scenes  were  acted ; 
And  some  ran  here,  and  others  there, 

Like  men  almost  distracted. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    433 

Some  fire  cried,  which  some  denied, 

But  said  the  earth  had  quaked  ; 
And  girls  and  boys  with  hideous  noise, 

Ran  through  the  streets  half  naked. 

And  now  the  alarm  reaches  Sir  William,  who 
all  this  time  had  Iain  in  his  bed  "  snug  as  a  flea," 
nor  "  dreamed  of  harm." 

Now  in  a  fright  he  starts  upright, 

Awaked  by  such  a  clatter  ; 
He  rubs  his  eyes,  and  boldly  cries, 

"  For  God's  sake  what 's  the  matter  ?  " 

At  his  bedside  he  then  espied 

Sir  Erskine  at  command,  sir, 
Upon  one  foot  he  had  one  boot, 

And  t'  other  in  his  hand,  sir. 


"  Arise,  arise,"  Sir  Erskine  cries, 
"  The  rebels,  more  's  the  pity, 

Without  a  boat,  are  all  afloat, 
And  ranged  before  the  city. 

"  The  motley  crew  in  vessels  new, 
With  Satan  for  their  guide,  sir, 

Packed  up  in  bags  or  wooden  kegs 
Come  driving  down  the  tide,  sir. 

"  Therefore  prepare  for  bloody  war, 
These  kegs  must  all  be  routed, 

Or  surely  we  despised  shall  be, 
And  British  courage  doubted." 

The  royal  band  now  ready  stand, 
All  ranged  in  dread  array,  sir, 

With  stomachs  stout  to  see  it  out, 
And  make  a  bloody  day,  sir. 

19  BB 


434  LECTURE  XII. 

The  cannons  roar  from  shore  to  shore, 

The  small  arms  make  a  rattle, 
Since  wars  began  I  'm  sure  no  man 

Ere  saw  so  strange  a  battle. 

The  rebel  dales,  the  rebel  vales 

With  rebel  trees  surrounded, 
The  distant  woods,  the  hills  and  floods, 

With  rebel  echoes  sounded. 

The  fish  below  swam  to  and  fro, 

Attacked  from  every  quarter ; 
Why  sure,  thought  they,  the  devil 's  to  pay 

'Mongst  folks  above%the  water. 

The  kegs,  't  is  said,  though  strongly  made 

Of  rebel  staves  and  hoops,  sir, 
Could  not  oppose  their  powerful  foes, 

The  conquering  British  troops,  sir. 

From  mom  till  night,  these  men  of  might 

Displayed  ama.zing  courage  ; 
And  when  the  sun  was  fairly  down, 

Retired  to  sup  their  porridge. 

An  hundred  men  with  each  a  pen, 

Or  more,  upon  my  word,  sir, 
It  is  most  true,  would  be  too  few, 

Their  valor  to  record,  sir. 

Such  feats  did  they  perform  that  day, 

Against  those  wicked  kegs,  sir, 
That  years  to  come,  if  they  get  home, 

They'll  make  their  boasts  and  brags,  sir. 

But  I  cannot  close  so  serious  a  subject  with  so 
merry  a  strain.  Let  me  ask  you  rather  to  recall 
what  I  told  you,  in  my  Lecture  on  the  ?>Iartyrs  of 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.    43,3 

the  Revolution,  of  Nathan  Hale,  one  of  the  truest 
and  noblest  of  those  true  and  noble  men.  I  trust 
that  American  poetry  has  yet  a  fitting  place  for 
him :  though  should  even  the  greatest  among  our 
poets  tell  his  story,  I  should  be  loath  to  have  the 
tender  and  touching  tribute  of  an  unknown  con 
temporary  forgotten. 

A  BALLAD. 

The  breezes  went  steadily  through  the  tall  pines, 
A  saying  "  Oh !  hu-ush,"  a  saying  "  Oh  !  hu-ush ! " 

As  stilly  stole  by  a  bold  legion  of  horse, 
For  Hale  in  the  bush,  for  Hale  in  the  bush. 

"  Keep  still/'  said  the  thrush  as  she  nestled  her  young 
In  a  nest  by  the  road,  in  a  nest  by  the  road ; 

"  For  the  tyrants  are  near,  and  with  them  appear 
What  bodes  us  no  good,  what  bodes  us  no  good." 

The  brave  Captain  heard  it,  and  thought  of  his  home 
In  a  cot  by  the  brook,  in  a  cot  by  the  brook ; 

With  mother  and  sister  and  memories  dear, 
He  so  gayly  forsook,  he  so  gayly  forsook. 

Cooling  shades  of  the  night  were  coming  apace, 

The  tattoo  had  beat,  the  tattoo  had  beat ; 
The  noble  one  sprang  from  his  dark  lurking-place, 

To  make  his  retreat,  to  make  his  retreat. 

He  warily  trod  on  the  dry  rustling  leaves, 

As  he  passed  thro'  the  wood,  as  he  passed  thro'  the  wood ; 
And  silently  gained  his  rude  launch  on  the  shore, 

As  she  played  with  the  flood,  as  she  played  with  the  flood. 

The  guards  of  the  camp,  on  that  dark,  dreary  night, 
Had  a  murderous  will,  had  a  murderous  will. 


436  LECTURE  XII. 

They  took  him  and  bore  him  afar  from  the  shore, 
To  a  hut  on  the  hill,  to  a  hut  on  the  hill. 

No  mother  was  there,  nor  a  friend  who  could  cheer, 

In  that  little  stone  cell,  in  that  little  stone  cell; 
*-,-  But  he  trusted  in  love  from  his  Father  above, 

In  his  heart  all  was  well,  in  his  heart  all  was  well. 

An  ominous  owl,  with  his  solemn  base  voice, 
Sat  moaning  hard  by,  sat  moaning  hard  by, 

"  The  tyrant's  proud  minions  most  gladly  rejoice, 
For  he  must  soon  die,  for  he  must  soon  die." 

The  brave  fellow  told  them,  no  thing  he  restrained, 

The  cruel  gen'ral,  the  cruel  gen'ral, 
Of  his  errand  from  camp,  of  the  end  to  be  gained, 

And  said  that  was  all,  and  said  that  was  all. 

They  took  him  and  bound  him  and  bore  him  away, 

Down  the  hill's  grassy  side,  down  the  hill's  grassy  side ; 

'T  was  there  the  base  hirelings  in  royal  array 
His  cause  did  deride,  his  cause  did  deride. 

Five  minutes  were  given,  short  moments,  no  more, 

For  him  to  repent,  for  him  to  repent ; 
He  prayed  for  his  mother,  he  asked  not  another, — 

To  Heaven  he  went,  to  Heaven  he  went. 

The  faith  of  a  martyr  the  tragedy  showed, 

As  he  trod  the  last  stage,  as  he  trod  the  last  stage; 

And  Britons  will  shudder  at  gallant  Hale's  blood, 
As  his  words  do  presage,  as  his  words  do  presage. 

Thou  pale  king  of  terrors,  thou  life's  gloomy  foe, 
Go  frighten  the  slave,  go  frighten  the  slave ; 

Tell  tyrants,  to  you  their  allegiance  they  owe. 
No  fears  for  the  brave,  no  fears  for  the  brave. 


CONCLUSION.  437 

AND  now  at  the  close  of  this  long  course  permit 
me  to  give  a  rapid  glance  at  the  ground  over  which 
we  have  passed,  remembering  that,  while  history  is 
the  record  of  man's  acts,  it  is  still  more  eminently 
the  interpreter  of  God's  will.  As  the  record  of 
man's  acts,  we  find  much  to  humiliate  and  sadden 
us;  as  the  interpreter  of  God's  will,  we  find  every 
thing  to  animate  us  in  the  performance  of  duty, 
and  sustain  us  under  the  trials  and  sacrifices  which 
it  may  impose. 

It  is  impossible  at  this  grave  moment  of  our 
country's  fortunes  to  read  the  history  of  our  War 
of  Independence  without  comparing  it,  as  we  read, 
with  that  other  war  which  is  daily  unfolding  its  vi 
cissitudes  before  our  eyes,  —  our  war  of  fulfilment 
and  preservation. 

They  are  alike,  for  they  are  both  wars  of  prin 
ciple,  and  therefore  wars  of  progress.  There  is 
no  mistaking  the  cause  of  progress.  Every  re 
sponsibility  carries  with  it  a  corresponding  right ; 
and  true  progress,  if  history  be  true,  is  the  recipro 
cal  evolution  of  responsibility  from  right,  and  of 
right  from  responsibility,  and  the  harmonious  de 
velopment  of  both.  Man's  right  to  appropriate  the 
earth  to  his  own  use  involves  the  responsibility  of 
cultivating  it  industriously  and  judiciously  ;  and 
this  responsibility,  honestly  fulfilled,  gives  him  a 
right  to  a  controlling  voice  in  the  disposal  of  the 
products  of  his  cultivation.  It  was  in  this  light 
that  our  fathers  judged  the  legislation  of  the  Brit- 


<i:3d  LECTURE  XII. 

ish  Parliament,  and  in  this  light  must  their  great 
struggle  be  judged. 

But  underlying  this  right  was  the  right  of  per 
sonal  freedom  as  the  result  of  personal  responsi 
bility  at  the  bar  of  God.  Now  this  conclusion, 
although  a  logical  sequence,  many  among  them 
failed  to  reach,  while  those  who  reached  it  specu- 
latively  being  unable  to  give  it  substantial  expres 
sion  by  incorporating  it  with  their  new  institutions, 
left  the  completion  of  their  sacrifices  and  labors  as 
a  responsibility  for  their  children,  and  in  full  faith 
that  it  would  be  faithfully  met. 

And  thus  our  present  war  is  the  logical  sequence 
of  our  War  of  Independence,  as  the  War  of  Inde 
pendence  was  the  logical  sequence  of  the  compact 
signed  in  the  cabin  of  the  Mayflower.  And  thus 
from  sequence  to  cause,  tracing  upwards  the  stream 
of  time,  we  bind  in  one  connected  chain  the  Proc 
lamation  of  President  Lincoln  with  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  and  the  Declaration  of  Indepen 
dence  with  the  Charter  of  Runnymede.  If  you 
would  judge  an  historical  event  you  must  study  it 
in  its  sequences,  you  must  penetrate  to  the  right 
on  which  it  rests,  the  responsibility  which  it  in 
volves,  and  if  there  be  life  and  development  in  it, 
it  is  progress,  and,  inasmuch  as  it  is  progress,  the 
irresistible  expression  of  the  will  of  God. 

Thus  alike  in  their  origin,  —  the  war  of  our 
fathers  on  the  part  of  England  being  like  our 
own  war  on  the  part  of  the  South,  —  acts  cf 


CONCLUSION.  439 

blind  resistance  to  the  inevitable  development  of 
a  great  natural  law,  —  they  are  also  alike  in  many 
of  the  practical  lessons  which  they  convey.  In 
both,  while  great  virtues  have  been  displayed, 
great  errors  have  been  committed.  Our  fathers 
erred  by  permitting  decisive  moments  to  pass,  by 
neglecting  the  warnings  of  experience,  and  misin 
terpreting  the  lessons  of  history.  Sometimes,  too, 
they  erred  by  employing  palliatives,  by  indulging 
delusive  hopes,  by  casting  lingering  looks  behind 
when  they  should  have  fixed  their  eyes  firmly  on 
the  steep  and  rugged  path  before. 

And  have  we  not  erred  where  they  erred,  and 
even  more  than  they  ?  Why  have  we  not  an 
army  of  a  million  of  men,  but  that  we  permitted 
the  blood  that  rushed  in  indignant  protest  to  the 
cheek  of  every  true  American  at  the  sound  of  the 
first  gun  against  Sumter  to  utter  its  protest  in 
vain  ?  If  it  was  a  gross  error  in  them  to  raise 
three  months'  men  and  nine  months'  men,  instead 
of  men  for  the  war,  what  does  it  become  in  us, 
with  their  example,  written  in  wasted  blood  and 
protracted  suffering,  before  our  eyes  ?  If  it  was 
madness  in  them  to  dream  of  reconciliation  after 
Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill,  what  shall  we  say  of 
those  who  still  continue  to  talk  of  peace  without 
victory  after  Bull  Run  and  Fredericksburg  ?  If 
they  failed  to  apply  justly  the  lessons  of  history, 
what  shall  we  say  who,  with  the  additional  lessons 
of  three  new  generations  before  us,  have  repeated 


440  LECTURE  XII. 

all  their  mistakes,  and  not  contented  with  repeat 
ing,  have  enriched  them  by  still  greater  mistakes 
of  our  own  ? 

Of  these  peculiar  errors  of  ours,  I  will  give  but 
one  example.  When  our  fathers  took  up  arms 
against  England,  they  were  in  many  respects  like 
men  groping  in  the  dark.  The  example  of  the 
United  Provinces  was  almost  the  only  modern 
example  to  which  they  could  have  recourse ;  and 
I  need  not  tell  you  —  what  your  profound  and 
eloquent  Motley  has  shown  —  how  unlike  the 
two  wars  were  in  their  causes,  in  their  vicissi 
tudes,  and  in  the  character  both  of  the  two  coun 
tries  and  the  two  people.  The  record  of  this 
groping  of  our  fathers  is  given  act  by  act  and 
almost  day  by  day  in  the  letters  of  Washington 
and  his  officers.  There  is  scarce  an  error  that  we 
have  committed  which  is  not  pointed  out  and  illus 
trated  in  that  exhaustless  mine  of  administrative 
wisdom.  Had  our  statesmen  studied  the  corre 
spondence  of  Washington  with  half  the  attention 
with  which  they  have  studied  the  ephemeral  effu 
sions  of  party  zeal,  they  would  never  have  made 
shipwreck,  as  so  many  of  them  have  done,  on  the 
shoals  and  quicksands  which  he  saw  with  so  clear 
an  eye,  and  marked  out  with  so  firm  a  hand.  To 
neglect  his  warning  was  to  undervalue  his  wis 
dom  ;  and  what  an  American  becomes  when  he 
loses  his  reverence  for  Washington,  an  anecdote, 
lor  the  authenticity  of  which  I  can  vouch,  will  tell 


CONCLUSION.  441 

you  better  than  any  words  of  mine.  I  have  said 
lie  ;  but  the  reverence  which  I  speak  of  would  fall 
very  short  of  its  office  if  the  sentiment  were  con 
fined  to  man,  —  and  the  subject  of  my  story  is  a 
woman. 

In  the  summer  of  1861  an  eminent  artist  was 
showing  his  studio  to  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentle 
men.  Of  all  his  treasures,  that  which  he  valued 
most  was  an  orderly-book  which  had  once  belonged 
to  Washington,  and  many  pages  of  which  were 
written  in  that  firm,  bold  hand  which  every  Amer 
ican  instantly  recognizes  as  that  of  the  father  of  his 
country.  As  he  was  opening  it,  he  heard  a  re 
mark  from  one  of  the  company,  which  sounded 
so  strangely  to  his  ears  that  he  could  not  persuade 
himself  that  he  had  heard  aright. 

"  What  were  you  saying,  madam  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  saying  that  I  am  tired  of  these  exagger 
ated  praises  of  that  cold-blooded  man." 

That  lady  is  now  at  Richmond,  presiding  over 
those  circles  in  which  the  men  who  would  build 
their  republic  on  the  corner-stone  of  slavery  do 
reverence  to  their  Washington. 

o 

How,  then,  did  our  fathers  conquer?  They 
conquered  by  perseverance,  by  refusing  to  sheathe 
the  sword  until  the  purpose  for  which  they  drew 
it  had  been  fully  accomplished.  They  conquered 
by  endurance,  accepting,  if  not  always  cheerfully, 
yet  with  a  wise  submission,  the  consequences  of 
their  acts.  They  conquered  by  faith,  —  faith  in 

19* 


442  LECTURE  XII. 

their  cause  as  the  cause  of  humanity,  and  faith  in 
their  leader  as  God's  chosen  instrument. 

And  by  perseverance,  endurance,  and  faith,  we 
too  shall  conquer,  —  not  this  year  indeed,  nor  per 
haps  even  in  the  next,  —  but  conquer  we  must,  if, 
believing,  as  they  believed,  that  our  cause  is  the 
cause  of  religion  and  humanity,  we  too  make  our 
faith  manifest  by  firm,  consistent,  and  resolute  ac 
tion  ;  sustaining  and  encouraging  each  other,  meet 
ing  with  cheerful  greetings,  speaking  warmly  of 
our  hopes,  and  only  so  much  of  our  fears  as  may 
be  needed  to  infuse  that  wise  caution  which  makes 
the  accomplishment  of  hope  sure,  and  repeating  to 
ourselves  and  to  each  other  the  inspiring  words  of 
our  great  poet :  — 

"  Sail  on,  0  ship  of  state ! 
Sail  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great ! 
Humanity  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years, 
Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate ! 
We  know  what  Master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  workmen  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 
Who  made  each  mast,  and  sail,  and  rope, 
What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat, 
In  what  a  forge  and  what  a  heat 
Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope  I 
Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock, 
'T  is  of  the  wave  and  not  the  rock ; 
'T  is  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail, 
And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale ! 
In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest's  roar, 
In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore, 


CONCLUSION.  443 

Sail  on,  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea ! 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee, 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 
Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee,  —  are  all  with  thee ! " 


APPENDIX. 


CHRONOLOGICAL   OUTLINE. 

loOO.  Canada  settled  by  the  French. 

1607.  Virginia  settled  by  the  English. 

1614.  The  Dutch  settle  at  Manhadoes  (New  York). 

1 620.  The  Puritans,  under  Brewster,  Carver,  and  Bradford,  land 

at  Plymouth,  December  22  (N.  S.),  1620. 

1623.  Dover,  New  Hampshire,  settled. 

1634.  Maryland  settled. 

1635.  Connecticut  settled. 

1636.  Rhode  Island  settled. 

1642.  House  of  Commons  exempts  the  produce  and  commerce 

of  the  Colonies  from  taxation  or  duties. 

1643.  Swedish  settlements  in  Pennsylvania  and  Delaware. 

"  First  Union,  —  confederacy  of  Massachusetts,  Plymouth, 
Connecticut,  and  New  Haven,  for  mutual  protection. 

"        Free  trade  between  the  Colonies  and  mother  country. 

"  First  iron  works  established  by  John  Winthrop,  Jr.  and 
his  partners. 

1650.  North  Carolina  settled. 

1651.  First  Navigation  Act  to  secure  transportation  to  English 

ships,  by  the  Parliament  of  the  Commonwealth. 
1660.     Navigation  Act  confirmed  and  enlarged  by  the  govern 

rnent  of  the  Restoration. 
1664.     New  Jersey  settled. 
1670.     South  Carolina  settled. 
1681.     William  Penn  in  Pennsylvania. 
1684.     Massachusetts  deprived  of  its  charter. 
1686.     December  20.     Arrival  of  Andros. 

1690.  First  issue  of  paper  money. 

"        First  Congress  meets  at  New  York. 

1691.  New  York  declaration  of  rights  and  privileges. 

1692.  New  Charter  of  Massachusetts. 


446  APPENDIX. 

1692.     Act  of  General  Court  against  aids,  taxes,  £c.,  without 

consent  of  General  Court. 
"        Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut  resume  their  charters. 

1745.     First  capture  of  Louisburg. 

1747.  Press-gang  in  Boston,  —  consequent  tumult  and  resist 
ance. 

1750.  Act  of  Parliament  encouraging  the  exportation  by  the 
colonies  of  pig  and  bar  iron,  but  forbidding  the  erec 
tion  of  rolling  and  slitting  mills,  the  making  of  steel, 
&c.,  &c. 

1752.  New  Style  adopted. 

"        Franklin  proves  the  identity  of  lightning  and  electricity. 

1753.  French  and  Indian  war  (old  French  war). 
"        Washington's  journey  to  St.  Pierre. 

1759.     Wolfe  takes  Quebec. 

1761.     Otis's  plea  against  writs  of  assistance. 

1763.  Peace  of  Paris. 

"        Laws  of  trade  rigorously  enforced.     Navy  employed  to 

suppress  smuggling. 
"        Direct  taxation  planned. 
"        Controversy  between  Apthorp  and  Mayhew  concerning 

the   Society  for  the   Propagation  of  the   Gospel  in 

Foreign  Parts. 

1764.  Otis  publishes  his  "  Rights  of  the  British  Colonies  as 

serted  and  proved." 

1765.  March.     Stamp  Act  passed.      Patrick  Henry's  Virginia 

Resolutions. 

"        October.     Congress  meets  at  New  York. 
"        John  Adams  publishes  his  dissertation  on  the  Canon  and 

Feudal  Law. 

1766.  March.     Stamp  Act  repealed. 

1767.  Townshend's  tax-bill. 

"        Dickinson  publishes  the  Farmer's  Letters 

1768.  September.     Gage  ordered  to  Boston. 
1770.     March  5.     Boston  Massacre. 

1773.  December.     Boston  Tea-party. 

1774.  September.     First  Continental  Congress  meets  at  Phila 

delphia. 
"        September.     Gage  fortifies  Boston  Neck. 

WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE 

1775.  April  19.     Battle  of  Lexington. 

"        May  10.     Second  Continental  Congress  meets. 
"  "  Ticouderoga  captured. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    OUTLINE.  447 

1775.  June  15.      Washington  appointed  Commander-in-Chief. 

"     17.     Battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 

"        November  29       Congress  appoints  a  Committee  of  Se 
cret  Correspondence. 
"        December    31.      Montgomery  killed   in    the   attack  on 

Quebec. 

1776.  January.      Two    first  cantos  of  MacFingal    published. 

Paine's  Common  Sense. 
"        March.     Silas  Deane    sent  to   France   as   Commercial 

Agent. 

"        March  17.     British  evacuate  Boston. 
"        May  6.     John  Adams  brings  forward  his  resolution  for 

the  establishment  of  State  governments. 
"        May  10.     Resolution  passed. 

"     15.     Preamble  added. 
"        June  7.     "Resolutions  for  Independency"  moved. 

June  10.     Committee  appointed  to  draft  the  Declaration. 
"     28.  British  land  and  sea  forces  under  Clinton  and 

Parker  attack  Fort  Mo  til  trie  and  are  repulsed. 
"        July  2.     Independence  resolved. 

"     4.     Declaration  signed  by  Hancock  and  Thompson 
"        August  27.     Battle  of  Long  Island. 
"        October  28.     Battle  of  White  Plains. 

November  16.     Fall  of  Fort  Washington. 

December  8.     Washington  retreats  across  the  Delaware, 

12.     Congress  adjourns  to  Baltimore. 
"        19.     First  number  of  Paine's  Crisis. 
"       21.     Franklin  reaches  Paris. 
"       26.     Capture  of  Hessians  at  Trenton. 

1777.  January  3.     Battle  of  Princeton. 
"        June.     Arrival  of  Lafayette. 

"        August  16.     Battle  of  Bennington. 
"        September  11.     Battle  of  the  Brandywine. 
19.     First  Battle  of  Stillwater. 
"        October  7.     Second  Battle  of  Stillwater. 
"     14.     Battle  of  Germantown. 
"     17.      Surrender  of  Burgoyne. 
December  1.     Steuben  arrives  at  Portsmouth,  N.  H. 

1778.  February  6.     Treaty  with  France. 

"        April  8.     John  Adams  arrives  at  Paris  as  Commissioner 

&c. 

"        June  28.     Battle  of  Moumouth. 
"        July.     Massacre  of  Wyoming. 
"        August.     Expedition  ro  Rhode  Island. 
"  "     29.     Battle  of  Tiverton  Heights. 


.146  APPENDIX. 

1778.  November.     Massacre  at  Cherry  Valley. 

1779.  March  3.     Battle  of  Briar  Creek. 

"  February  and  July.     Tryon's  expeditions. 

"  June  and  July.     Spain  takes  part  in  the  war  against 

England. 

"  July  15.     Capture  of  Stony  Point. 

"  "     31.     Sullivan  begins  his  march  against  the  Indians. 

"  September  27.     John  Jay  appointed  Minister  to  Spain. 

"  October  9.     Siege  of  Savannah. 
"  "      15.     Sullivan  arrives  at  Easton,  Penn. 

1780.  May  12.     Surrender  of  Charleston. 
"  «     29.     Battle  of  Waxhaw  Creek. 
"  June  23.     Battle  of  Springfield. 

"  July  10.     Arrival  of  French  fleet  and  army. 

"  July  9  and  August  1.     Convention  for  armed  neutrality 

between  Russia,  Sweden,  and  Denmark. 

"  August  6.     Battle  of  Hanging  Rock. 
«  «     16.     First  Battle  of  Camden. 

"  September.     Arnold's  treason  discovered. 

*  October  2.     Execution  of  Andre'. 
"  "       7.     Battle  of  King's  Mountain. 

"  "     14.     Greene  appointed   to   the  command  of  the 

Southern  army. 

"  December  19.     Francis  Dana  sent  to  St.  Petersburgh. 
"  "  20.     England  declares  war  against  Holland. 

1781.  January  1.     Mutiny  of  the  Pennsylvania  line. 
«  "      17.     Battle  of  the  Cowpeus. 

"  January  and  February.     Greene's  operations  in  Carolina 

and  retreat  across  the  Dan. 

"  March  15.     Battle  of  Guilford  Court  House. 

«  April  25.     Battle  of  Hobkirk's  Hill. 

"  September  8.     Battle  of  Eutaw  Springs. 

"  October  19.     Surrender  of  Cornwallis. 

1782.  Treaty  with  Holland. 

"  November  30.     Provisional  articles  of  Peace  signed  ai 
Paris. 

1783.  April  19.     Cessation  of  hostilities, 

"  September  3.     Definitive  treaty  of  peace. 

"  October  18.     Proclamation  disbanding  the  army. 

"  November  25.     Evacuation  of  New  York. 

"  December  4.     Washington's  farewell. 


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452  APPENDIX. 


TABLE  II. 

List  of  General  Officers  at  the  Commencement  and  Close  of 
the  Revolutionary  War. 

FIRST  CONTINENTAL  ARMY,  1775. 

Commander-in-  Chief. 

State.  Date  of  Commis. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  .   .  Virginia,.     .     .  .   June  15,  1775. 

Major-  Generals. 

Artcraas  Ward,  ....  Massachusetts,    .  .   June  17,  1775. 

Charles  Lee, Virginia,  .     .     .  .      do.    17,  1775. 

Philip  Schuyler,  ....  New  York,    .     .  .     do.    19,  1775. 

Israel  Putnam,    ....  Connecticut,      .  .     do.   19,  1775. 

Brigadier-  Generals. 

Seth  Pomeroy,     ....  Massachusetts,  .  .    June  22,  1775. 

Richard  Montgomery,    .     .  New  York,    .     .  .     do.   22,  1775. 

David  Wooster,  ....  Connecticut,.     .  .     do.   22,1775. 

William  Heath,   ....  Massachusetts,  .  .      do.   22,  1775. 

Joseph  Spencer,  ....  Connecticut,       .  .      do.   22,  1775. 

John  Thomas,     ....  Massachusetts,   .  .      do.   22,  1775. 

John  Sullivan,     ....  New  Hampshire,  .      do.   22,  1775. 

Nathaniel  Greene,    .     .     .  Rhode  Island,    .  .     do.  22,  1775. 

Adjutant-  General. 

Horatio  Gates,     ....  Virginia,       .     .  .   June  17,  1775. 

CONTINENTAL  ARMY  IN  1783. 

Commander-in-  Chief. 

State.  Date  of  Commis. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  .  .  Virginia,.     .     .  .   June  15,  1775. 

Major-  Generals. 

Israel  Putnam,    ....  Connecticut,       .  .   June  19,  1775. 

Horatio  Gates,     ....  Virginia,       .  May    16,  1776. 

William  Heath,  ....  Massachusetts,  .  .   Aug.    9,  1776. 

Nathaniel  Greene,     .     .     .  Rhode  Island,    .  .    do.       9,  1776. 

William  Lord  Stirling,       .  New  Jersey,  .     .  .   Feb.    19,  1777. 


LIST   OF   GENERAL    OFFICERS. 


Arthur  St.  Clair,      . 

.     .  Pennsylvania,    . 

.  Feb.    19,  1777. 

Benjamin  Lincoln,   . 

.     .  Massachusetts,   . 

.    do.     19,  1777. 

M.  dc  La  Fay  otto,    . 

.     .  France,     .     .     . 

.  July  31,  1777. 

Robert  Howe,.     .     . 

.     .  North  Carolina, 

.   Oct.    20,  1777. 

Alexander  McDougall 

,       .  New  York,    .     . 

.    do.    20,  1777. 

Baron  Steuben,   .     . 

.     .  Prussia,    .     .     . 

.   May     5,  1778. 

William  Smallwood, 

.  Maryland, 

.   Sept.  15,  1780. 

William  Moultrie,    . 

.     .   South  Carolina, 

.  Nov.  14,  1780. 

Henry  Knox,       .     . 

.     .  Massachusetts,  . 

.    do.     15,  1780. 

Lc  Chevalier  du  Portail,    .  France,    .     .     . 

.    do.     16,  1780. 

Brigadier-  Generals. 

James  Clinton,    .     . 

.     .  New  York,    .     . 

.  Aug.    9,  1776. 

Lachlan  Mclntosh,  . 

.     .  Georgia,  .     .     . 

.   Sept.  16,  1776. 

John  Patterson,  .     . 

.     .  Massachusetts,  . 

.   Feb.   21,  1777. 

Anthony  Wayne, 

.     .  Pennsylvania,    . 

.    do.           1777. 

George  Weeden,  .     . 

.     .   Virginia,       .     . 

.    do.           1777. 

P.  Muhlenberg,   .     . 

.     .  Virginia,       .     . 

.    do.           1777. 

George  Clinton,  .     . 

.     .  New  York,    .     . 

.  Mar.  25,  1777. 

Edward  Hand,     .     . 

.     .  Pennsylvania,     . 

.  April    1,  1777. 

Charles  Scott,      .     . 

.     .  Virginia,       .     . 

.    do.      2,  1777. 

Jedidiah  Huntington, 

.     .  Connecticut, 

.  May   12,  1777. 

John  Stark,     .     .     . 

.     .  New  Hampshire, 

.   Oct.      4,  1777. 

Jethro  S  iimner,    .     . 

.     .  North  Carolina, 

.  Jan.     9,  1779. 

Isaac  Huger,  .     .     . 

.     .  South  Carolina, 

.    do.       9,  1779. 

Mordecai  Gist,     .     . 

.    do.       9.  1779. 

William  Irvine,   .     . 

.     .  Pennsylvania,    . 

.  Jan.      9,  1779. 

Daniel  Morgan,  .     . 

.     .  Virginia,  .     .     . 

.   Oct.    13,  1780. 

Moses  Hazen,      .     . 

m 

June  29,  1781. 

0.  H.  Williams,       . 

.     .  Maryland,     .     . 

.   May     9,  1782 

John  Greaton,      .     . 

.     .  Massachusetts,  . 

.  Jan.     7,  1783 

Rufus  Putnam,    .     . 

.     .  Massachusetts,  . 

.    do.       7,  1783. 

Elias  Dayton,  .     .     . 

New  Jersey,  .     . 

.    do.       7,  1783. 

Major-General  le  Chevalier  du  Portail,  Chief  Engineer. 

Major-General  Baron  Steuben,  Inspector- General. 

Colonel  Walter  Stewart,  Inspector  of  the  Northern  Department, 

Brigadier-General  Hand,  Adjutant- General. 

Colonel  Timothy  Pickering,  Quartermaster- General. 

John  Cockran,  Esq.,  Director- General  of  Hospitals. 

Thomas  Edwards,  Judge- Advocate- General. 

John  Pierce,  Esq.,  Paymaster- General. 


454 


APPENDIX. 


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EXPENSES  OF  THE   REVOLUTION.      45  •> 


TABLE  IV. 

Showing  the  Force  that  each  of  the  Thirteen  States  supplied 
for  the  Regular  Army,  from  1775  to  1783,  inclusive. 

[From  Niles's  Register,  July  31, 1830.] 


Regulars. 

New  Hampshire,     .     .  12,497 

Massachusetts,  .     .     .  67,907 

Rhode  Island,    .     .     .  5,908 

Connecticut,       .     .     .  31,939 

New  York,    ....  17,781 

New  Jersey, ....  10,726 

Pennsylvania,    .     .     .  25,678 


Regulars. 

Delaware,      ....      2,386 
Maryland,      .     .     .     .     13,912 

Virginia, 26,678 

North  Carolina,      .     .      7,263 
South  Carolina,      .     .      6,417 

Georgia, 2,679 

Total,    .     .   231,791. 


TABLE  V. 

Expense  of  the  Revolutionary   War. 

It  is  not  possible  to  ascertain  with  certainty  the  expenses  of 
the  Revolutionary  War.  An  estimate  was  made,  in  1790,  by  the 
Register  of  the  Treasury,  of  which  the  following  is  a  general  ab 
stract  :  — 

The  estimated  amount  of  the  expenditures  of  r>olls-       90thB- 

1775  and  1776  is,  in  specie, 20,064,666  66 

1777, .     .  24,986,646  85 

1778, 24,289,438  26 

1779, 10,794,620  65 

1780, 3,000,000  00 

1781, 1,942,465  30 

1782, 3,632,745  85 

1783, 3,226,583  45 

To  Nov.   1,   1784, 548,525  63 


Forming  an  amount  total  of $92,485,693  15 

The  foregoing  estimates,   being  confined  to  actual  treasury 
payments,  are  exclusive  of  the  debts  of  the  United  States,  which 


45  G  APPENDIX. 

were  incurred,  at  various  periods,  for  the  support  of  the  war,  and 
should  be  taken  into  a  general  view*  of  the  expense  thereof,  viz. :  — 

Dolls.          OOthf. 

Army  debt,  upon  commissioners'  certificates,      .   11,080,576     1 

For  supplies  furnished  by  the  citizens  of  the 
several  States,  and  for  which  certificates  were 
issued  by  the  commissioners, 3,723,625  20 

For  supplies  furnished  in  the  quartermaster,  com 
missary,  hospital,  clothing,  and  marine  depart 
ments,  exclusive  of  the  foraging,  ....  1,159,170  5 

For  supplies,  on  accounts  settled  at  the  treasury, 
and  for  which  certificates  were  issued  by  the 
register, 744,638  49 

$16,708,009  75 

Note.  —  The  loan-office  debt  formed  a  part  of  the 
treasury  expenditures. 

The  foreign  expenditures,  civil,  military,  naval, 
and  contingencies,  amount,  by  computation,  to 
the  sum  of 5,000,000  00 

The  expenditures  of  the  several  States,  from  the 
commencement  of  the  war  to  the  establishment 
of  peace,  cannot  be  stated  with  any  degree  of 
certainty,  because  the  accounts  thereof  remain 
to  be  settled;  but,  as  the  United  States  have 
granted  certain  sums  for  the  relief  of  the  several 
States,  to  be  funded  by  the  general  government, 
therefore  estimate  the  total  amount  of  said  as 
sumption,  21,500,000  00 

Estimated  expense  of  the  war,  specie,       .     .   $135,693,70300 


TABLE   VI. 

Emissions  of  Continental  Money. 

The  advances  made  from  the  treasury  were  principally  in  a 
paper  medium,  which  was  called  Continental  money,  and  which  in 
a  short  time  depreciated  :  the  specie  value  of  it  is  given  in  the 


CONTINENTAL  MONEY.  457 

foregoing  estimate.  The  advances  made  at  the  treasury  of  the 
United  States  in  Continental  money,  in  old  and  new  emissions, 
are  estimated  as  follows,  viz. :  — 

Old  Emission.  New  Emission. 

Dollars.     90th*.  Dollars.     90tks. 

In  1776, 20,064,066  66 

1777, 26,426,333     1 

1778, 66,965,269  34 

1779, 149,703,856  77 

1"80, 82,908,320  47       .     .       891,236   80 

1781, 11,408,095  00      .      .   1,179,249  00 

$357,476,541   45  $2,070,485   80 

By  comparing  this  amount  of  paper  money,  issued  during  the 
Revolution,  with  the  above  estimate  of  the  total  expense  in  specie 
dollars,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  average  depreciation  of  the  whole 
amount  issued  was  nearly  two  thirds  of  its  original  value. 


TABLE   VII. 

Table  of  Depreciation  of  Continental  Money. 

1779.  1780.  1781* 

January      ..     7,  8,  9     ....  40-45 ...  100 

February    .     .     10 45-55.     .     .  100-120 

March    ...     10,  11     ....  60-65.     .     .  120-135 

April      .     .     .     12|,14,16,22.     .  60  .     .     .     .  135-200 

May  ....     22-24     ....  60  ....  200-500 

June.     .     .     .     22,  20,  18    .     .     .  60.     .     .     .  On  the  31st 

July  .     .     .     .     18,  19,  20    .     .     .  60-65  of  May  it 

August  ...     26 65-75  ceased    to 

September  .     .     20-28      ....  75  circulate. 

October.     .     .     30 75-80 

November  .     .     32-45      ....  80-100 

December  .     .    45-38  100 


20 


458 


APPENDIX. 


TABLE   VIIL 

State  Expenditures  and  Balances. 


Sums  charged 

STATES. 

Sums 
allowed  for 
Expenditures. 

for  advances 
by  United 
Status,  in 
cluding  the 
assumption 
of  State 

Expendi 
tures,  ex 
cluding  all 
advances. 

Balances 
found  due 
from  the 
United 
States. 

Balances 
found  due 
to  the 
United 
States. 

Debts. 

$ 

$ 

$ 

$ 

$ 

N.  Hamp., 

4,278,015.02 

1,082,954.02 

3,195.061 

.    75,055 

Mass. 

17,964,613.03 

6,258.880.03 

11,705,733 

1,248,801 

R.  Island, 

3,782,974.46 

1,977,608.46 

1,805,366 

299,611 

Conn. 

9,285,737.92 

3,436,244.92 

5,829,493 

619,121! 

New  York, 

7,179,982.78 

1,960,031.78 

5,219,951 

2,074,846 

N.  .Jersey, 

5,342,770.52 

1,343,321.52 

3,999,449 

49,030 

Penn. 

14,137,076.22 

4,690,686.22 

9,446,390 

76,709 

Delaware, 

839,319.93 

229,898.98 

609,421 

612,428 

Maryland, 

7,568,145.38 

1,592,631.38 

5,975,514 

151,640 

Virginia, 

19,085,981.51 

3,803,416.51 

15,282,865 

100,879 

N.Carolina, 

10,427,586.13 

3,151,358.13 

7,276,228 

501,082 

S.Carolina,  11,523,299.29 

5,780,264.29 

5,743,035 

1,205,978 

Georgia, 

2,993,800.86 

1,415,328.86 

1,578,472 

19,988 

ADDRESS   TO   GENERAL   GREENE. 

(See  page  350.) 

CAMP  SOUTHERN  ARMY, 
High  Hills,  Santee,  20th  August,  1781. 

The  subscribers,  commissioned  officers  serving  in  the 
Southern  Army,  beg  leave  to  represent  to  the  Honorable  Ma- 
jor-General  Greene,  That  they  are  informed,  not  only  by 
current  reports,  but  by  official  and  acknowledged  authority, 
that,  contrary  to  express  stipulations  in  the  capitulation  of 
Charleston,  signed  the  1 2th  day  of  May,  1 780,  a  number  of 
very  respectable  inhabitants  of  that  town  and  others  were 
confined  on  board  prison-ships  and  sent  to  St.  Augustine,  and 
other  places  distant  from  their  homes,  families,  and  friends. 
That  notwithstanding  the  general  cartel  settled  for  exchange 
of  prisoners  in  the  Southern  Department,  and  agreed  to  the 
3d  day  of  May  last,  several  officers  of  militia  and  other  gen- 


ADDRESS    TO   GENERAL    GREENE.     4oU 

tlcmen,  subjects  of  the  United  States,  have  been  and  still 
are  detained  in  captivity. 

That  the  commanding  officer  of  the  British  forces  in 
Charleston,  regardless  of  the  principles  and  even  of  the  ex 
istence  of  the  said  cartel,  hath  not  only  presumed  to  discrim 
inate  between  the  militia  and  other  subjects  of  the  United 
States,  prisoners  of  war,  partially  determining  who  were  and 
who  were  not  objects  of  exchange,  but  hath  even  dared  to 
execute,  in  the  most  ignominious  manner,  Colonel  Haynes  of 
the  militia  of  the  State  of  South  Carolina,  a  gentleman  ami 
able  in  his  character,  respectable  in  his  connections,  and  of 
eminent  abilities :  and  this  violent  act,  as  cruel  as  it  was  un 
necessary  and  unjust,  we  are  informed,  is  attempted  to  be 
justified  by  the  imputed  crime  of  treason,  founded  upon  the 
unfortunate  sufferer's  having  in  circumstances  peculiarly  dis 
tressing,  accepted  what  is  called  a  Protection  from  the  Brit 
ish  government. 

If  every  inhabitant  of  this  country,  who,  being  bound  by 
the  tender  ties  of  family  connections,  and  fettered  by  do 
mestic  embarrassments,  is  forced  to  submit  to  the  misfortune 
of  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  must  therefore  be 
come  subject  to  such  inhuman  authority,  and  if  such  subjects 
are  liable  to  be  tried  by  martial  law  for  offences  against  the 
civil  government  of  the  British  nation,  their  situation  is  truly 
deplorable.  But  we  conceive  forms  of  protection  that  are 
granted  one  day,  and  retracted,  violated,  disclaimed,  or  de 
serted  the  next,  can  enjoin  no  such  condition  or  obligation 
upon  persons  who  accept  them.  We  consider  the  citizens 
of  the  United  States  of  America  as  independent  of  the  gov 
ernment  of  Great  Britain,  as  those  of  Great  Britain  are  of 
the  United  States  or  of  any  other  sovereign  power ;  and 
think  it  just  that  indulgences  and  severities  to  prisoners  of 
war  ought  to  be  reciprocal.  We,  therefore,  with  submission, 
beg  leave  to  recommend  that  a  strict  inquiry  be  made  into 
the  several  things  mentioned,  and  if  ascertained,  that  you 
will  be  pleased  to  retaliate  in  the  most  effectual  manner  by 


460  APPENDIX. 

a  similar  treatment  of  British  subjects,  which  are  or  may  be 
in  your  power. 

Permit  us  to  add,  that  while  we  seriously  lament  the  ne 
cessity  of  such  a  severe  expedient,  and  commiserate  the  suf 
ferings  to  which  individuals  will  necessarily  be  exposed,  we 
are  not  unmindful  that  such  a  measure  may  in  its  conse 
quences  involve  our  own  lives  in  additional  dangers;  but  we 
had  rather  forego  temporary  distinctions  and  commit  our 
selves  to  the  most  desperate  situations,  than  prosecute  this 
just  and  necessary  war  upon  terms  so  unequal  and  so  dis 
honorable. 

Signatures,  &c. 


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